


Need for Speed

by fhartz91



Series: Need for Speed 'Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Alternate Universe - High School, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Bad Boy Blaine, Bruises, Car Chases, Car Sex, Dalton Academy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fast and Furious inspired, First Kiss, First Love, First Time, Fist Fights, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by a Movie, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Niff, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Romance, Sex in a Car, Sexual Content, Sexual Inexperience, Teenagers, virgin!kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 111,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/fhartz91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel moves from California to Lima after his dad's heart attack causes them to lose their repair shop. Kurt leaves his prestigious performing arts school and any chance of moving to New York and getting into NYADA. His only other joy in life is custom tuning cars, but his father doesn't approve. Things seem to get back on track when he joins the Dalton Crew as their mechanic, behind his father's back. He'll make the money he needs as long as he can put up with the unwanted attention of Sebastian Smythe. But, how will his dreams change after he meets the head of the McKinley Crew, Blaine Anderson, who decides that winning Kurt Hummel will be his next big challenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Smirky_little_meerkat_face](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smirky_little_meerkat_face/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Need For Speed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7265107) by [wwspecial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwspecial/pseuds/wwspecial)



> For those of you directed here from my Tumblr post, welcome :) Like I said, the majority of this story has already been "freshened" so to speak. The only chapters left to revise are 21-22, and 28-29, but it's all good. Feel free to read and not feel cheated <3 And please let me know what you think. I know this is an older fic of mine, but it's one of my faves and I love to know what people think about it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this story in honor of my husband, who loves custom cars. I am neither a mechanic or a customer tuner, but I am a fan. I have done a lot of research, but I probably made some mistakes, so if you find any please be kind and suspend reality. FYI - NOS is an air intake system that uses nitrous oxide to increase a car's speed, usually for short periods of time. It's popular among racers. It's usually installed in the cab of the car and covered with a blanket because NOS needs to be at a certain temperature to work. This is my first fanfic so reviews are greatly appreciated. Also, I know a lot of people didn't like Season 4 Tina, and avoid story's with her in them. But my Tina is still dating Mike and not obnoxiously obsessed with Blaine, so we're good.)
> 
> Movie posters by the incredible ForbiddenDusk (freakingpotter)

Kurt sat cross-legged on his bed, elbows propped on his knees, head in his hands. He felt like crying, and not just a calm, rejuvenating sob, but an all-out, throw-yourself-on-the-floor-kicking-your-legs-and-flailing-your-arms-while-you-wail-like-a-skewered-seal tantrum. He looked around at the worn cardboard boxes piled high in his room, each labeled accordingly - clothes, books, music, Vogue magazines, misc. - all waiting patiently to be unpacked and put away, but Kurt wanted none of it. Unpacking his things and settling in felt so permanent. It felt like giving in. Once he put his clothes in his closet and his books in the bookcase, it would all be real.

Setting his room up would mean he was staying.

It had only been a week since they moved to Ohio from California, and he knew, with every fiber of his being, that he didn't want to live here.

"Give it a chance," his dad had pleaded. "I'm sure everything will work out."

Kurt highly doubted it, but he couldn't really blame his dad - not for his heart attack that caused the hospital bills, which in turn zapped all their savings, or for the recession that started to drag them under so far there was no way for them to recover. No, he couldn’t blame his dad for any of that, but in the end, because of his dad's unwillingness to franchise out, they had lost the shop and had to move to Lima, of all places. What kind of name was Lima for a city, anyway? Lima wasn’t the name of a city. It was a type of bean - a curled, sickly pale, ugly bean that most normal and rational people pushed to the side of their plate and forgot about long after their steak was gone.

That's what Kurt's life in California had been for him. Steak - rich and flavorful, and extremely fulfilling. Kurt sighed with longing when he thought about it. Even for a boy who didn't believe in a God, he had felt incredibly blessed. He had a good life in California. He had friends. He had a future. He was on his way.

Now, here he sat, aging Texas Instruments calculator in hand, trying to figure out how he was ever going to make it out to New York and his dream school NYADA when he was resigned to making ten dollars an hour at his dad's new shop. His dad had already dropped the bomb that with settling the hospital bills, the move, and all their other numerous expenses (which seemed to crop up out of nowhere on a daily basis) he would most likely not be able to help Kurt afford the college of his dreams.

Kurt's only dream.

With a frustrated groan, Kurt tossed the calculator violently to the floor, but the horrid 1960s green shag carpet mocked him by shielding the tiny machine from shattering into a thousand satisfying pieces.

Kurt felt trapped; trapped like some animal that's meant to be free, too big for its cage and dying inside because it will never be allowed to roam. Kurt hated feeling trapped. Trapped was not a life. It almost felt like not living at all.

* * *

  
Two weeks before the start of school, the start of his senior year, supposedly the best year of his young life, and Kurt sat on a metal stool in his dad's shop, begging silently for business to pick up. _I'd better get used to it_ , Kurt thought. With his dad's poor health, Kurt would be spending most of his free time before and after school right here…on this stool…the minutes of his life slowly dripping away. At his last school, Kurt had taken mostly accelerated and AP classes, so he managed to swing getting first period off. Kurt and his dad, Burt, had only one other employee – Mark. To be honest, the man wasn’t really much help around the shop, but he was doing Burt a favor, and he came cheap.

Mark was a friend of Kurt's parents from back in the day, when Burt and Kurt's mother Elizabeth had lived in Lima. When everything had first started crashing down around them and his father was still trying frantically to keep their heads above water, Mark had been the one to suggest that they move back to Lima and start over. He volunteered to do all the grunt work. He found them the shop, acted as liaison to the leasing agent, found them a house they could afford, he even helped negotiate the move.

Yup, Mark was a stand-up guy.

Kurt hated Mark. He hated him with a burning passion. Mark seemed to know it, too, because he kept to the far corner of the shop and barely said anything other than ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ to the livid young man.

Kurt would never tell his father, but he resented wasting what remained of the summer rotating tires and doing oil changes; not that there seemed to be anything more interesting to do in that Podunk town. It's not that Kurt didn't like working in his dad's shop. He actually quite enjoyed it. He wasn't very fond of getting dirty, but he liked working on cars. If his dreams of New York and NYADA didn't pan out, being a custom tuner wouldn't be so bad. His dad disagreed. Burt Hummel definitely did not appreciate the street racing culture the way Kurt did. Far from it. It had been mortifying back home when his dad would turn away boy racers, especially in California where custom tuners made all the money and little shops like Hummel Tires and Lube were steadily going out of business.

Kurt had built his own car almost from scratch – a 1999 Mitsubishi Eclipse. A friend had helped him buy the body at auction. After that, he scoured junk yards for the parts he needed, putting the car together practically one piece at a time. Once it was completely constructed, he traded some transmission work with a local painter who taught him the fine art of detailing. It took an extreme amount of patience, but in the end it paid off in spades. Kurt loved his car, and with the exception of his voice, he had never been prouder of anything else in his life. As much as his father hated the thing, Kurt had spent his own money on it, and his dad couldn't really complain much. His son had done an excellent job putting it together. Besides, Kurt didn't race. He just liked cars...and the guys who drove the cars.

 _Ding, ding_.

Kurt looked up, a little surprised by what was rolling into the shop. Four boys, about his age, in white tank tops and blue jeans, pushed a silver 300ZX through the bay doors. Kurt smiled. ' _Now that's what I'm talking about_ ,' he thought. _Hot guys and a hot car._ Maybe today wouldn't suck so hardcore after all.

Kurt quickly made his way over to the group before they could realize their mistake and split.

"Hello, and welcome to Hummel Tires and Lube," Kurt recited cheerfully.

 _Ugh_. _That sounded lame, even to his own ears_.

His father demanded that he greet every customer the same way. Personally, Kurt didn't know what was wrong with just saying, ' _Hello_ ,' or maybe, ' _How may I help you?_ '

"Hello," a tall, Asian-looking boy said, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "I wonder if you could help us."

"Okay," Kurt said, eyeing each of the boys in turn. They all smiled warmly at him.

"We've been trying to get this guy up and running for the last month or so," a blond boy said, patting the hood of the silver car fondly with his hand. "I've got big plans for her."

"Yeah," a slightly shorter, dark haired boy, with light skin and bright eyes, agreed, "but the problem is it's making some strange noises, and it doesn't seem to have the pick-up it should."

Kurt nodded his head thoughtfully as he took in the information, trying his utmost to appear calm and professional while at the same time praying to anyone who might be listening, whether Kurt believed in them or not, that his dad didn't come back from his break before he had the chance to get this baby on the lift and put his hands on it.

"Just out of curiosity," Kurt said when the boys had finished, eying the car from top to bottom, "why did you stop in here? I mean, we're not really a custom car shop."

"Well," the last boy spoke up, "our regular mechanic sort of bugged out on us, and we saw the Eclipse out front..." The boy motioned over his shoulder to Kurt's car parked out front. Kurt had forgotten to bring the cover he normally kept on it, so it sat outside in the shade. Parked beside his dad's pick up, it kind of stood out with its crystal blue paint job and silver lightning vinyl graphics down the side. "We thought someone in here might be able to help us."

"Yup," Kurt said with a nod. "That's my baby. Took close to a year to get her up and running."

"That's hot," the Asian boy, evidently the leader of the group, commented. "Are you rolling NOS?"

Kurt smirked.

"Not if my dad's asking."

"Gotcha," the boy said with a wink.

"So, can you help us?" the blond boy said, eyes wide and hopeful.

"This is a '96, right?" Kurt asked, and the boys nodded. Kurt crossed his arms and tapped his chin with his right index finger, going over what he remembered of the schematics of the ZX engine in his head, scrolling through several possibilities, and troubleshooting the problem mentally. "Well, your variable cam timing's probably dropped, so that's most likely where you're losing horsepower. And the ZX always makes a lot of interesting noises. I'd have to take it around the block to see for myself..."

The sound of a door slamming shut and heavy shuffling footsteps caused Kurt's mouth to go dry, his heart to sinking into his stomach.

"Hey, dad," Kurt called, already feeling defeated.

"Hey, kiddo," Burt said, walking over slowly. "What's going on here?"

"I'm with some customers," Kurt said, turning his head and fixing his father with a tense smile, willing him with his eyes to turn around and walk back into the office so Kurt could fix this car. His dad didn't seem to understand facial cues. Burt circled the car and the group of kids slowly, examining them uncomfortably.

"300ZX?" his dad asked thoughtfully. "What's the problem?"

"Possible cam timing problem and a couple of odd noises," Kurt rushed out. "I was just about to take her around the block to make sure."

His dad nodded. Kurt had seen this dance before, and he didn’t hold out much hope that the outcome would be different this time. On the other hand, his dad didn't look overly concerned with the presence of four boys surrounding an obvious racer car in his shop. Kurt might just be in the clear.

Burt leaned in closer to the car’s roof and peered at the paint, green eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Is that an aftermarket silver flake?"

 _Oh crap.._.

Kurt sighed and dropped down onto his stool. He knew where this was headed...right out the door with the rest of his hopes, his dreams, any chance of making some decent money, and the possibility of a social life.

"So, you kids running NOS?" Burt asked, looking the car over. Three of the boys looked at each other, exchanging nervous looks, but the boy that Kurt made out to be the leader didn't seem at all intimidated by Kurt's dad.

"Yes, sir," he answered, smiling politely.

Burt maintained a roughly unreadable expression, but Kurt knew his dad, and he knew the grim look in his eyes. This whole deal was about to go sour.

"You guys street racing around here?"

"Yes, sir,” the boy admitted. “And may I say that your son here seems to really know his stuff. We were kind of hoping he could help us out. We have quite a few cars, and we're in the market for a new mechanic.”

Kurt perked up immediately. Did this guy just compliment him? _And_ he was offering to bring them business? His dad couldn't say no to that, right? Kurt side-eyed his father shrewdly. He knew how his dad felt about street racing; that it was dangerous and illegal. He also knew that these kids could give them business, good steady business. Heck, the profit they could feasibly make on some of the import parts alone could pay for his first semester. Kurt sat straight as a rod, bouncing slightly, pleading with his father, but only in his head. Here it was, Kurt going to New York and living the dream, as long as his dad made the right decision.

"I'm sorry boys,” Burt said finally with a determined shake of his head, “but I don't think we can help you."

"Dad..." Kurt hissed.

"No, Kurt.” Burt turned to his son with a look on his face that emphasized that his decision was final. “Now you know how I feel about racing." Burt turned his attention back to the boys with the car. "It's dangerous, and I will not promote it here in my shop. Besides, I don't think we offer the kind of services you guys are going to be needing anyhow."

"But, dad!" Kurt argued, desperately trying to give it one last go, to make his dad see reason.

“No, Kurt. Now I've said my piece. Why don't you gentlemen take your car and run along?”

The blond boy deflated almost as much as Kurt. The Asian boy nodded to his crew, and they started to push the car back out of the garage. Kurt’s cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. He glared, shooting daggers at his dad as the man, without a single other acknowledgement to his son, turned and headed for his office. After he locked himself away, Kurt watched the four boys maneuver the 300ZX carefully out of the bay. There it went; another opportunity rolling its way right out the door. Another time his dad could have made things right for them, but instead he chose to let his stubbornness and inability to change get in the way. If his dad thought they were going to get anywhere doing tune-ups and oil changes at a paltry $30 a pop for the rest of their lives, he was sadly mistaken. Kurt couldn’t take it anymore. His dad had told him to give it a chance; that everything would work out, but from where Kurt sat everything looked exactly the same.

This couldn’t continue to be his life. It just couldn’t.

He decided then and there that he was sick of watching his future be decided without him even getting to have his say. Kurt watched as his dad rounded to the office, heading to the back of the shop, then sprinted out of the bay and ran after the boys.

"Hey!" Kurt called. “Wait up!”

The Asian boy turned around, a knowing smirk on his face.

"What's up?"

"I can do it." Kurt glanced over his shoulder to make sure his dad didn't notice his absence and come looking for him. "I can fix your car, and any other one you want to toss my way."

"Really?" The boy looked him up and down. "And what about pops?"

"Let me worry about him." The words came out before Kurt could stop them. He felt guilty about disrespecting his dad, but not enough to give up on his dream. "Can you come back later? Maybe after we close?"

The four boys looked at each other, the blond one’s face lighting up with unbridled joy. Then the three boys looked back at their leader. After a silent moment, he nodded.

“We can do that.”

Kurt exhaled with relief.

“Bring it by tonight. I can have it done for you in an hour. Two tops."

"We'll bring it by at around 7. The races start at 10. And if I like the job you do, you can come with me and my crew. You can be our mechanic."

"Great," Kurt said.

He watched the group limp their silver car away, and while he did he weighed his options - the chance of his ultimate success over his father’s inevitable disappointment.

He shoved aside the bitterness that came with considering his dad’s point of view and returned to the shop, trying not to look too overjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

The boys came back to the shop right at 7:00, and Kurt, who had checked the clock every five minutes since his father left, had the shop ready for them.

Kurt had been spot on with his assessment of the silver car’s problem. He hustled with the ZX, working hard and fast, trying to be thorough while doing his best to impress the crew. After replacing a belt and making a few minor adjustments to the camber to keep it from pulling, the car was souped up and ready to race. The blond boy, Jeff, was so overjoyed that he grabbed Kurt up in a fierce hug, spun him around in a circle, and kissed him on the cheek, which didn't seem to go over too well with the dark haired boy, Nick.

"Well, Jeff seems to like you," Wes, their leader, said with a satisfied smile. "I guess that means you're in.”

Kurt grinned gratefully and nodded once, trying to remain frugal with his emotions, though secretly in his head he was fist-pumping the air.

“Nick, Jeff, and I are going to head to the race,” Wes informed him. “You can follow David. He's got the yellow Acura Integra.” Wes stuck out his hand for Kurt to shake. “Nice to have you on the team, Porcelain."

Kurt wasn’t too thrilled with the new moniker, but beggars can’t be choosers. This was an incredible opportunity, and he would be an idiot to turn it down over something as petty as a nickname. Besides, everyone on the crew probably had one. He eagerly took Wes’s offered hand and shook it.

“Alright,” Jeff cheered, patting Kurt on the back as he passed him by on the way to his car, tugging Nick along behind him. Nick regarded Kurt with a blank expression and clapped him on the back as well, but with a lot less enthusiasm than his friend.

“Come on, Kurt.” David waved him along as he followed the other three out of the bay and split off toward his car.

“Give me a second to lock up.” Kurt rushed to switch off the lights and activate the alarm system. He couldn’t help giggling to himself as he pulled the metal gate shut. His future seemed bright again, and in record time, too. Sure, moving out to Buttfuck, Ohio was a hiccup on the road to achieving his dream, but now he was back on course.

He jumped into his Eclipse, resisting the urge to crow in triumph, so he did it quietly in his head instead.

_NYADA, here I come._

***

Kurt hadn't had the opportunity to explore much of Lima since the move. Most of his time he spent at home or the shop. He had stopped by the local high school to fill out some paperwork, and did a drive by the hospital to see how fast he could make it from his house there, just in case. Other than that, he hadn't gone anywhere.

A thrill of excitement shot through Kurt as he followed David down back roads and surface streets to the unincorporated section of Lima. It was a nice change, opening up his Eclipse as he traveled down the deserted streets and into the business park. Even in California, he didn't have much of an opportunity to see what his car could do. He reminisced on the few times he got to take her out to the desert, speeding along winding roads and over abandoned dirt paths; feeling happy and young and free.

All too soon the ride ended, but a new thrill had just begun. At the end of the street, bright lights glowed in every conceivable color. Bass boomed until the concrete vibrated with it. A cacophony of laughing and yelling and discordant music filled the humid night. The air around him pulsed with energy, and Kurt sucked it all in.

David led Kurt slowly through crowded streets lined with cars, different crews segregated in tight clusters, tuning their engines or jabbering; even placing bets on the upcoming races.

Kurt smiled. He breathed. He felt more at home.

David and Kurt took the street all the way to the end. Kurt already recognized Jeff's 300ZX and Wes's blue and orange Toyota Supra. Kurt and David pulled alongside them and parked. Kurt could feel eyes on him as he stepped from his car and approached the group. Wes put a hand on Kurt's shoulder and led him over to seven cars, lined up side by side. Most of the boys were engaged in animated conversations, but two boys in particular saw them approach and immediately walked over. Kurt felt a little out of his element around them. Every member of Wes's crew, with the exception of Jeff, dressed in designer clothes while Kurt still wore his overalls from work, but more than that, he was wary of the looks in these two boys' eyes - eyes trained on him like laser sights.

Wes gestured to them.

"This is Dave Karofsky," he said, indicating the larger, burly boy, "but he goes by Monster. And this is Sebastian Smythe." The taller boy with the perfectly coifed hair smiled, showing his immaculate, white teeth. Dave nodded with a small grunt in Kurt's direction, his mouth set in a thin line. Sebastian cut in front of Dave swiftly and took Kurt by the elbow. Kurt saw Dave stiffen.

"Well, hello gorgeous," Sebastian said, leaning forward to quickly peck Kurt on the cheek. Despite himself, Kurt blushed. "Thank God you're here. I need to you take a look at my car."

"Shouldn't I ask around first?" Kurt was eager to put some space between himself and Sebastian.

"I don't see why." Sebastian seemed unable or unwilling to sense Kurt's discomfort with his closeness. "Those other cars are good, but mine is really the flagship of the crew. So you can start with mine and work your way down from there."

Sebastian led Kurt away before he could object any further, and walked him over to the most beautiful sight Kurt had ever seen. Sitting strategically underneath a street light to emphasize all its glory, Sebastian had parked his blue and red Nissan GT-R.

"Oh my God," Kurt breathed, breaking away from Sebastian's grip on his elbow to walk over to the car. Sebastian hummed appreciatively as his eyes followed Kurt's lithe form. Kurt paced the length of the car, taking in every crisp line, every curve, every intricate detail.

 _'Custom wheels, of course_ ,' Kurt appraised. ' _Carbon fiber rear spoiler, and that has to be an aftermarket paint job_.' Kurt peeked through the passenger window, unaware that his mouth had dropped open. ' _God_ ,' Kurt thought, catching himself before he moaned out loud,  _'look at those gorgeous leather seats. I bet you those smell fantastic. And everything's so clean. Does he even drive it?...Asshole...'_

"You want to take a peek under the hood?" Sebastian preened proudly.

"Please," Kurt said. Sebastian raised the hood and this time Kurt _did_ moan. Sebastian's eyes flashed at the sound, and his wicked grin curled even higher towards his piercing eyes. Sebastian leaned casually as close to Kurt as he could. Kurt bent low over the engine well. Sebastian watched him, letting his mind wander over the tight fit of Kurt's overalls. Kurt shifted positions and Sebastian took in a sharp breath.

Kurt heard the muted gasp and rolled his eyes. He wished Sebastian would go somewhere else for a moment and leave him alone with this exceptional car. He tried to block out the overbearing presence that was Sebastian Smythe, but the CK cologne he bathed in made it more than a little difficult.

Kurt felt Sebastian inch closer and tried as subtly as possible to move away.

"What's up, baby?" Sebastian purred, leaning in to Kurt's shoulder. "Am I making you nervous?"

"Uh..." Kurt looked up to see Sebastian's green eyes lingering too close for comfort, "I just...your cologne...it's coming on a bit strong."

"I'm sorry you don't like it, baby." Sebastian stuck out his lip, pretending to pout. "I use it to mask the smell of the motor oil around here."

"And what's wrong with the smell of motor oil?" Kurt snapped, more defensive than he intended. "It's the smell of an honest day's work."

 _'Yikes,_ ' Kurt thought for a second. ' _I sound like my dad_.'

"I never said I didn't like it." Sebastian inhaled along the column of Kurt's neck as he spoke. "Actually, it's kinda hot."

Kurt shot up quickly, desperately feeling the need to move on. "Was there something specific you wanted me to look at?"

"Why, yes, actually," Sebastian said with a too wide grin. Kurt closed his eyes and breathed out in frustration.

"I meant the car, Sebastian."

"Nope," Sebastian said smugly. "I just brought you over here to enjoy the view."

Kurt sighed and looked down at the amazing piece of machinery he had his hands on...and then up at the piece of work in front of him.

' _Another time, beautiful_ ,' Kurt thought mournfully as he took a last fleeting glance at the pristine Nissan laid open for him.

"I should be moving on then," Kurt said. "It looks like Monster's been glaring over here for the last five minutes, so I better see what he needs."

Sebastian made a reach for Kurt's hand, but Kurt managed to slink out of his grasp.

"It was nice meeting you," he said, with an obvious side-long look at the car, then turned and hurried away to where Dave stood next to his Dodge Charger, eyes locked unnervingly on him.

***

"Blaine!" a blonde girl squealed, running at him and leaping into his arms. "You're back! You're really back!"

"Yeah, Brittany," Blaine said, placing a light kiss to the top of her head, "I'm definitely back."

A tall boy in a red letterman's jacket and a Mohawk cresting over his otherwise shaved head came up and offered Blaine a hand, which Blaine took.

"Look who's back, rolling with the McKinley Crew!?" the boy cheered, pulling Blaine in for a hug.

"Hey, Puck." Blaine embraced him back.

"That's a bum deal about your dad," Puck said.

"No worries, man." Blaine patted Puck on the arm. "So, is the whole crew here?"

"Yup. Finn and Sam are already at the starting line, shooting the shit with some Crawford Country Day girls..." Puck pointed to where two boys in similar red letterman jackets sat with their cars, chatting up some girls in obscenely short skirts.

"You saw Britt."

"Yeah," Blaine said with a grin. "But where's Tana?"

"Oh, Santana's ripping some guy a new one for offering Britt a ride." Almost on cue, Blaine could hear an angry Latina cursing in fluent Spanish at some poor guy she had pinned against a vile green Honda Civic. He nodded frantically at every word she said, his eyes shifting left and right, searching for a way to escape, looking for all intents and purposes like he'd rather melt into the floor and die.

"Annnnnd Mike and Tina." Puck gestured vaguely at a purple Mazda RX-7, rocking fairly steadily where it was parked in a far corner.

"Gotcha," Blaine said with a nod and a wink.

"Yup, all present and accounted for, just waiting for their benevolent dictator to reclaim his throne."

"Oh, no, Puck," Blaine said, shaking his head, "I can't do that to you. I've been gone for months. This is your crew now."

"Hecks no, brother." Puck laughed, shaking his own head emphatically. "I was just keeping the seat warm for you, if you will. Truth be told, the perks of leadership are not all they’re cracked up to be. Besides, nothing was the same without you around."

Blaine put an arm around his friend.

"Only if you're sure."

"Positive," Puck assured him.

"I assume Wes and his boys have made an appearance." Blaine glanced over the cars, trying to identify any member of the rival crew.

"Don't you know it?"

The McKinley Crew converged as Blaine and Puck made the rounds, each welcoming their leader with a hug or a clap on the back. They fell back into the comfortable routine of joking, catching up, and enjoying each other's company.

As the rest of the crew laughed and talked, Blaine let his eyes wander. There was an excellent turn out. Rows of cars lined the streets, some with their hoods open. A lot of the drivers Blaine knew, a couple he didn't. He sought out and found Dalton's Crew. Wes, their crew chief, had his arms draped over two Crawford Country Day girls. Blaine wondered for a moment how his girlfriend felt about that. Past the cars and the tight cluster of drivers jawing loudly, he saw a sight that made him stop, stare, and certain parts of his body take notice. Bent deep over the engine of a familiar blood red Dodge Charger was a pair of gun metal grey overalls stretched over the most amazing ass Blaine had ever seen. Even at this distance, Blaine could hear the boy's voice as he muttered angrily, hands emerging every once in a while to wipe themselves on a ratty old rag hanging over the frame.

The boy in the overalls stood slightly, and Blaine caught a peek of his stunning silhouette. Skin so pale it glowed and a head of perfectly styled chestnut-colored hair, this boy looked far from real, and way too delicate to be covered in grease. Regardless, it suited him. His high cheek bones were a perfect frame for what appeared to be a carefully chiseled nose. His eyes flashed in the HIDs of passing cars, the white lights reflecting their color - the most complex combination of blue-green Blaine had ever seen. Blaine smiled. He had to meet this guy.

Blaine walked over to the boy, chuckling internally with the argument he was having almost with himself, as the car's owner stared at him, confounded.

"Now, why would you  _do_  that?" the mechanic lamented. "Did you even look at the specs or did you just decide to stick plugs into holes?" The boy looking over the mechanic's shoulder grunted, fists balled tight at his side.

"Take it easy, Monster," Blaine said, pushing the lurking human wall away with a hand to the chest, "I'm sure he meant that in the best possible way."

At the sound of the new voice, Kurt stood up.

"No," Kurt said, wiping the back of one hand across his brow, "I meant it _exactly_  the way it sounded."

Kurt lowered the hood of the car, and turned the full fire of his gaze on the hulking boy to his right.

"Now drive her around the block a couple of times and if nothing blows up I'm sure you'll be fine."

Kurt turned on his heel and headed away, barely paying any attention to Blaine. Blaine looked back at Monster, who wore an unreadable expression as he watched the mechanic saunter away before getting in his car and driving off down the street.

Blaine turned back to the boy in the overalls as he hurried off to another car. Blaine ran to catch up.

"And what do  _you_  need?" Kurt asked, not even turning his head to acknowledge Blaine as he followed him.

"I need  _you_ , actually." Blaine reached out to grab Kurt's arm and stop his momentum. Kurt's heart fluttered at the touch of this boy's hand and the seductive sound of his voice. Kurt took a moment to surreptitiously look the boy up and down. Dark blue jeans clung to his legs, leaving little to the imagination, but neither did the tight red polo shirt that hugged his chest. Then there was the cliché leather jacket, but Kurt had to admit, he wore it well. At least it wasn’t one of those dime-a-dozen motorcycle jackets. That would have been an unforgivable sin; an insult to Kurt’s discerning fashion sense.

Kurt happened to be a sucker for a bad boy.

Kurt's eyes returned to the boy's grin. Despite his efforts to be nonchalant, the boy had definitely noticed Kurt giving him a once over. Kurt swallowed. He locked eyes with Blaine and blushed.

"What?" Kurt responded. almost breathlessly.

"You _are_ the mechanic, right?" Blaine asked, eyebrows raised. "For the Dalton Crew?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, coming back to himself. "Yes, I most definitely am."

"I need you to take a look at my baby." Blaine motioned vaguely over his shoulder. "I think I have an issue with my NOS. It's giving me problems."

Kurt let out the breath he was holding, letting his eyes drift over Blaine's shoulders to a large black car in the distance.

"I'll take a look." Kurt sprang forward, tossing his rag over a shoulder. He approached the black 2007 Mustang GT and raised his eyebrows. Blaine nodded.

"So, you're rolling American Muscle." Kurt looked over the car. "Doesn't that put you at a disadvantage with these tuner cars?"

"What I lack in acceleration, I make up for in power." Blaine lowered his voice a bit, and the suggestion wasn't lost on Kurt. "At least I didn't opt for a Miata."

"At least," Kurt chuckled. Kurt turned at the driver's side door and Blaine was suddenly there behind him, crowding him. ' _Jeez_ ,' Kurt thought, ' _don't these guys know about personal space?_ '

"Well," Kurt said expectantly, "show me where you keep it."

Blaine's eyebrows shot straight to his hairline. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Your NOS," he clarified. Blaine opened the door to his car and gestured inside.

Kurt bent over to peer into the car, and Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. There it was again - that gorgeous ass that summoned him from across the parking lot. Blaine's hands twitched at his sides, itching to grab this boy's hips and pull him towards him, to feel him against him. Maybe this year would be interesting after all, Blaine thought. Kurt rummaged inside Blaine's car, every adjustment and movement of Kurt's hips driving Blaine insane.

"Who put this in?" Kurt asked over his shoulder, and Blaine had to take a breath to steady himself before he could even think of answering Kurt's question.

"I did," Blaine replied, not moving his eyes from the curves of Kurt's ass.

"Well," Kurt said, "there's your first problem."

"Hey," Blaine said, indignant. Kurt giggled, the sound of Kurt’s laughter setting Blaine nearly ablaze with desire for this beautiful boy, already bent over in his car. The overall image was almost too much.

"Well" - Kurt stood - "I think you probably have a kink in your line."

Blaine came up close, cornering Kurt between his body and the car.

"And what do you know about the condition of my line?" Blaine whispered. Blaine's breath over the skin of Kurt's neck sent shivers throughout his whole body.

Kurt's reaction to Blaine's advances confused him a little. Why was standing this close to Blaine different than being leered at by Sebastian? Kurt should have the same reaction to this arrogant jackass as he did when Sebastian made his suggestive comments. Something about Blaine felt alluring, even if he did seem to think he was God's gift. Getting involved with Sebastian just seemed empty…and dangerous.

Then there were Kurt's own traitorous thoughts. Oh, the things he could imagine Blaine doing to him on the hood of this beautiful car.

"Well," Kurt started, trying not to sound like his whole body was about to spontaneously burst into flame. "You press that little button, you wait a bit, then it pulls hard? You get black smoke?"

"Aha," Blaine said, his eyes heavy lidded, closing the space between them, and why did everything he just said suddenly sound really dirty?

Kurt took in a sharp breath as he felt Blaine's leg wedge itself gently between his. Kurt was trapped; there was nowhere for him to go, and for the first time in his life, Kurt didn't mind at all. Kurt could feel Blaine's lips ghost over his skin, felt goosebumps forming. Kurt swallowed hard, lifting a hand and settling it on Blaine's chest...and pushed him firmly away.

When Kurt looked back into Blaine's eyes, they were wide with surprise, but his lips were curled in a devilish grin.

Blaine loved a challenge.

"You're running a 150 shot," Kurt continued, clearing his throat. "I would recommend replacing it with a 75 shot until you have the kinks fixed, and get her a blanket. I don't think she's getting hot enough."

"I don't know" – Blaine’s eyes traveled shamelessly down Kurt's body - "I think he's getting plenty hot." Kurt looked away, thankful for the dark night covering the crimson flush he knew colored his cheeks. But the darkness did nothing to hide the obvious bulge that was forming in the front of his overalls. Kurt knew from the smirk on Blaine's lips that he noticed it, too.

"Well" - Kurt ducked underneath Blaine's arm and walked around to the front of the car – “there's nothing I can do for you now, but if you come by the shop I can definitely help you out."

"I'll do that," Blaine said, stalking Kurt as he popped Blaine's hood to check out the engine. "I'll stop by and you can help me, you know, work out the kinks."

Kurt stood quickly, almost slamming his head on the metal hood.

"And what do we have here, Kurt?" Wes walked up to them, looking less than amused. "Fraternizing with the enemy?"

"Wha…what?" Kurt sputtered, looking between Blaine and Wes.

"Hello, Wes," Blaine said, his smile plastered stiffly to his face. "Nice to see you again."

"Blaine." Wes acknowledged the shorter man with a curt nod.

"I'm sorry, Wes," Kurt said, a slightly frantic look on his face that made Blaine frown. "He said he was with your crew."

"Technically, I asked if you were the mechanic for Dalton's Crew," Blaine said. "I never said I was _with_ them."

Kurt's eyes were burning again, focused on Blaine and set to kill. His features went rigid, his warm smile gone, and Blaine felt guilty.

"Come along, Kurt." Wes secured a hand to Kurt's shoulder, turning him away. "Hunter needs you to take a look at his brakes."

Without so much as a good-bye, Kurt walked off with Wes. Blaine couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Kurt seemed in Wes's presence, or any of the Dalton's Crew's presence for that matter. Blaine's heart went out to him. Wes used to be an easy going guy, but now he was growing into an unforgiving man.

Blaine shook his head sadly as he climbed into his car. He closed the door and took a breath, ready to drive back over to his crew until he caught a hint of something that wasn't there before. It settled in the air around him - on the steering wheel where Kurt had brushed it with his hip, on the leather of the seats where Kurt had rested his hands, and on the front of Blaine's jacket where Kurt had pressed up against him, hard and wanting. He had breathed it in when he had gotten so close to Kurt he could see the tiny freckles sprinkled across his nose and the subtle flecks of grey in his blue-green eyes. It was the scent of vanilla, somehow managing to overwhelm the smell of motor oil around him. Blaine closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to recall the look in Kurt's eyes from moments before, the soft glow of heat that shimmered beneath their depths - before Kurt hated him.

 


	3. Chapter 3

"Where'd you go, gorgeous?" Sebastian purred into Kurt's ear as Kurt ran his eyes along the brakes of Hunter Clarington's obnoxiously gold-painted Silvia.

“I got lost,” Kurt answered flatly, peering into the wheel well.

"Really?” Sebastian drawled, sounding far too amused, “Because Wes tells us you wandered into enemy territory."

Kurt sighed. He saw the way things were going to be from now on, the constant pecker contest between crews. Somehow, without meaning to, Kurt found himself stuck in the middle. Well, he could play the game, too. He turned on his own charm as he looked back at Sebastian, batting his eyes innocently. Sebastian bent at the waist to get closer to him, apparently not willing to dirty his faux distressed Abercrombie jeans by kneeling down to actually talk to Kurt on the level.

"Seems like I did." Kurt stood to face the boy. He didn’t like the possessive way Sebastian hovered over him, as if he had already claimed Kurt as his own. "But luckily I made it back without a scratch."

"And virtue intact, I hope," Sebastian teased.

Kurt felt all the color drain from his face. He snapped his head away from Sebastian quickly, looking over the roof of the car to where Hunter stood fiddling with his iPhone.

"The brakes are fine for now, but I’ll need to get this on the lift and look a little more."

Hunter barely glanced up as he nodded in Kurt's direction, not saying a word of recognition or thanks. Kurt hurried off to the sanctity of his own car, ears burning from Sebastian's words, needing a moment away from the fray of battling street cars and hormones to find some semblance of peace.

He wasn't so lucky. Sebastian stalked after him like some large predatory cat, toying with his prey.

"I saw you chatting up Blaine Anderson..." Sebastian's words followed Kurt, but Kurt focused solely on getting to his car, "and FYI, that boy's okay for a good time, but don't get too attached."

Those words unwittingly captured Kurt’s attention.

"Why not?" Kurt found himself asking, genuinely curious. He opened his car door and slid into the driver's seat.

"Because, Blaine's not really the boyfriend type,” Sebastian announced. “He's more the love 'em and leave 'em kind."

"And how do you know that?" Kurt asked, surprised that he even cared. He closed the car door shut behind him, needing to erect a barrier between him and his relentless pursuer.

"I get my intel from a reliable source," Sebastian answered vaguely. "Anyway, best to stick with me, beautiful. I'm all about commitment."

Kurt sat still, doing his best to blatantly ignore Sebastian. He wouldn't give Sebastian the satisfaction of looking up into his eyes and seeing the conflicting emotions building there. Sebastian let his words hang in the air for a moment, hoping Kurt would seriously consider his offer. He tapped on the roof of Kurt's car, drumming his fingers loudly, trying to get his attention, but Kurt kept his eyes glued to the steering wheel in front of him. A few strained minutes passed and Sebastian realized he was fighting a lost cause, so he turned to walk away.

Not that he had any intention of giving up the fight. He was simply calling it quits…for now.

"See you at the starting line," Sebastian called out. "I want to see your pretty mouth cheering me on."

Sebastian walked smoothly away. The second he was out of earshot, Kurt took a shuddering breath, feeling altogether tired and disgusted. Earlier today, when he was busy cursing out his life and praying for this job as Dalton’s mechanic, he hadn’t banked on any of this. He didn’t _want_ any of this.

He wanted to go back to California.

He wanted to go home.

* * *

 

Kurt never made his way back to the starting line. He drove off a short distance, trying to make himself a little more inaccessible. He figured if anything major came up with the cars of the Dalton Crew, Wes would text him. He stayed nestled within the comforting confines of his vehicle, the only thing he had that felt familiar anymore. Six races total took place, but no major wagers were made. More time was spent bad mouthing other drivers than actually driving. Kurt could see the Dalton boys look over at him from time to time, especially Sebastian, and bizarrely enough Dave. Kurt had a suspicion that Dave might be homophobic. There was no mistaking that something about Dave was off, and that he didn't seem to like Kurt, so Kurt would have to remember to keep his distance and watch his back.

Kurt noticed that Blaine didn't race at all, most likely because of the issue with his NOS line. Kurt wanted to believe that he noticed a few fleeting glances from Blaine's honey-colored eyes drifting his way as well, but from the distance he sat Kurt couldn't be completely sure. Besides, a boy _that_ gorgeous had to be attached to an equally gorgeous guy (or guys) somewhere. Blaine had probably been messing around by flirting with Kurt, having some fun at Kurt’s expense. He knew Kurt was there with Dalton. Blaine had admitted it. Flirting with him was probably some form of psychological warfare. He was trying to throw Wes off his game, pure and simple, and cop a feel to boot.

Great. Now Kurt felt tired, frustrated, and played.

Tired had started to win out. It seemed a shame to turn in early, especially since the only thing waiting for him at home was a short night of sleep with the promise of another day spent rotting away at his dad’s shop, but for the sake of his sanity he made the decision to leave. He sent Wes a text asking if they still needed him, and Wes sent him a message back saying that he could head home if he wanted. He also thanked him for all his hard work.

Well, there was that.

Kurt stood and stretched, hearing the satisfying pop and crack of his spine as he twisted his back left and right.

"You can't just do that," a smooth as silk voice said as it approached.

"Do what?" Kurt asked, too tired to be witty.

"Stand and stretch like that," Blaine said, coming into view from the city of lights ahead. "That image does things to people."

"Oh really?" Kurt asked, deliberately bending at the waist to touch his toes, folding his thin body completely in half and grinning at the sound of Blaine's appreciative groan.

 _'Take that, asswipe_ ,' Kurt mused vindictively. ' _Three years of cheerleading_.'

Blaine walked past Kurt with a last longing look down at his bent over form and wandered over to his Eclipse.

"Nice ride." Blaine nodded approvingly. "How come you're not down there racing instead of up here...stretching?"

Kurt stood up straight and looked Blaine over curiously, wondering what exactly his angle was.

"Because," Kurt said with a shrug, returning to his car, "I fix cars, I don't race."

"Why not?" Blaine asked, his flirtatious facade slipping a bit.

"Because, it's not for me. I love my car. I love driving my car. I don't want to risk losing it. It means a lot to me." Kurt couldn't understand why he was telling Blaine all of this. Did Blaine even really care or was this a rouse to get into Kurt’s pants? Still, Kurt didn't have anyone else to talk to. Kurt had learned recently that his supposed best friends in California, who had convincingly turned on the waterworks the minute they found out Kurt was leaving, were now too busy with their still fabulous lives to be concerned with him and his problems. Even Chandler Kiehl, an awkward little tadpole gay who had pursued Kurt like the plague for the past year and a half, had quickly found someone new to obsess over. And the Dalton Crew, well, they didn't really seem like the warm milk and lady talk type.

Except for maybe Jeff, but Kurt suspected that Nick might have something to say about that if he did invite the blond boy over for a heart-to-heart.

But out-of-the blue here came Blaine, with his gorgeous hazel eyes, his sexy curls, his open and genuine smile, asking Kurt about his life and looking like he actually cared. It felt nice, even if it might all be an act. Kurt decided there was no harm in indulging in the fantasy for a moment.

"What does it mean to you?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt turned and looked over at the horizon. The lights from the cars were slowly retreating, shooting away in various directions.

"It means freedom," Kurt said with a sigh. "No matter what happens in my life, no matter what happens at home, no matter...what I lose...I can just get in my car and drive away."

A tense silence followed Kurt's words. Kurt didn’t divulge anything more, and Blaine couldn’t think of a thing to say. He understood the need to get away, and his own Mustang had given him that time and time again.

Soon the air buzzed with the rumble of other cars driving their way. Kurt looked over at Blaine, who was gazing back at him with an almost sympathetic expression. Kurt felt a hard lump grow in his throat.

It would be so easy to fall head over heels for this boy, Kurt realized. To throw caution and common sense to the wind and get pulled into the allure of that cocky grin and arrogant charm would be such a welcome distraction from his depressing life. The memory of standing close to Blaine, feeling the warmth of this boy’s body against his, his breath washing over his skin, the many promises hidden in his voice and in his eyes – it made Kurt feel excited and alive.

That realization made Kurt suddenly furious. He remembered how easily Blaine had played him, how he threw Kurt under the bus with his new crew chief when all he was trying to do was his job. Blaine could have jeopardized Kurt’s chances at getting the life that he longed for so badly he would do practically anything, give anything he owned, to have it. Kurt stormed over to his driver’s side door, hoping Blaine would take the hint and back off, but he didn't.

"Look," Kurt said, "don't you have some other newbie to mess with, or some hot guy waiting for you at home? I mean, why are you over here fucking with me?"

Blaine looked startled.

"I'm not fucking with you." Blaine moved away from where he had leaned his hip lightly against Kurt's Eclipse and approached him slowly.

Kurt raised an eyebrow, responding with a sarcastic scoff.

"Look," Blaine said, "I'm sorry about before. I really am, but I wasn't trying to fuck with you. Really."

"Well," Kurt said, glaring at him, "unless you can give me a reason I might possibly believe, please do me the favor of stepping away from my car before I run you over. FYI, _my_ NOS actually does work."

Blaine had to smirk a bit at that. Kurt was so unlike anyone Blaine had ever met. He was sharp, fiery, and best of all, he wasn’t so star struck by Blaine or lured by his flattery that he threw himself at Blaine’s feet, which was more than fine for Blaine.

Blaine was all about the chase.

Kurt shut himself inside his car, but Blaine leaned in through the open window.

"Kurt," Blaine said, lowering his voice, "I would really like the chance to get to know you, if you'd let me."

Kurt stared into Blaine’s pleading eyes. He seemed so sincere that Kurt wanted to believe him. He really did. The expression on Blaine's face was enough to melt Kurt's heart, tear down all his carefully constructed walls. But the cynic lurking inside Kurt reared its ugly head. He turned the key in the ignition and gunned the engine, laughing wryly.

"Yup," Kurt said shaking his head, putting all those ideas about Blaine being a misunderstood bad boy with a heart of gold out of his mind, "right."

Blaine backed away just as Kurt put his car into gear and peeled away into the flow of cars heading out of the business park. Kurt didn't look into his rear view mirror to see Blaine's reaction. It wouldn’t have made a difference. No amount of puppy-dog heart-eyes could have made Kurt turn around and go back.

Blaine watched Kurt go, watched his blue and silver car speed off until it was just a blur of color in a sea of cars hurrying away. He turned on his heel and walked slowly back to his Mustang, smiling to himself. As far as he was concerned, the gauntlet had been thrown and the chase had begun. He was right. Kurt would be a challenge.

Blaine never turned his back on a challenge.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next afternoon, an exhausted Kurt leaned over the engine of a beat-up Suzuki Esteem, blinking his heavy eyelids every five minutes to keep them open while simultaneously trying to stifle a yawn.

"Is that Suzuki finished yet, Kurt?" Burt yelled from his office.

“Not yet,” Kurt groaned, wincing as his dad’s voice echoed painfully in his ears.

Burt watched his son sink farther into the engine of that car without actually accomplishing anything, becoming concerned about his son’s sudden decline in work ethic.

“Why are you dragging your feet today?”

"I’m not dragging my feet.” It was only a partial lie. “Give me five more minutes, dad," Kurt said, biting back another traitorous yawn. He looked at the filthy Suzuki engine, corroded battery connectors stained with white residue, pockmarked lines loosely crossing every which way. If this was Kurt’s vehicle, he wouldn’t even keep it for spare parts, but some people just didn’t know when to junk their car and move on. He strained against a bolt, fighting years of old rust to loosen it. He mumbled to himself, highly disgruntled. "Though it would be easier if they just scrap this worthless piece of..."

The high-pitched ding of the call bell pulled Kurt’s attention away from the engine. He jerked his head up and looked outside to see a black car making its way into the bay. He stood and peeked over a few cars to see a Toyota Corolla roll to a stop. Kurt glanced toward the office to see his dad come out and approach the vehicle. Since he didn’t have to worry about greeting a new customer, Kurt returned to his work.

Kurt became frustrated with what he considered to be a sad excuse for a car, and moved on to cleaning up a Honda that he had repaired earlier. It was supposed to be Mark’s job to do the final clean-ups, but he rarely did, and Kurt knew this car’s owner was due to arrive any minute. He finished vacuuming out the passenger side foot well when he heard a throat clearing behind him.

"One minute," Kurt said. He turned off the vacuum and started to back out of the car when he heard an unmistakable yet quiet 'damn' from behind him in a strikingly familiar voice.

Kurt straightened, and spun around. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Blaine put his hands up defensively, a sly smirk curling his lips.

"That's no way to talk to a customer," he teased. He thumbed over his shoulder, motioning to the Toyota.

"You're driving a Corolla now?" Kurt scoffed. "You know, your car choices are getting a little ridiculous."

"Oh, don't even try to front." Blaine closed the space between them. "I know the Mustang gets you _hot_."

Kurt brushed passed Blaine, trying desperately to will away the sudden flush to his cheeks, and walked briskly toward the car. Blaine followed behind, smiling wider, knowing he had hit a nerve.

"Besides,” Blaine continued, “word on the street is that your dad doesn't like racers, so I figured I'd come here covertly."

"And  _that's_  what you chose as your Trojan horse?" Kurt said with disgust. He picked up a clipboard from a nearby station to jot down the car’s information.

"The Corolla's my mom's,” Blaine explained. “She asked me to go get the oil changed, so I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone."

"You know," Kurt said, not looking up from his paper work, "not that we don't appreciate the business, but there's a Jiffy Lube right down the block. They specialize in oil changes. In and out in less than 30 minutes."

"But I heard you're the best in town," Blaine drawled, enjoying how easily he could make Kurt's flawless complexion go from pale to fire engine red in nearly record time. "And _in and out in 30 minutes_ doesn't interest me. I'm willing to wait if you're going to take your time."

Kurt bit his lip in frustration as he scrawled the last few pieces of information on to the form in his hand. He had had enough of all the innuendo. He didn’t want to hear it from Sebastian, and he definitely didn’t want to hear it from Blaine. Apart from that, and possibly more to the point, he couldn’t stand how his body reacted to the way Blaine dropped subtle hints in that sinful voice of his. His head snapped up, his face flushing deeper with a hint of desire, but his eyes blazing with full-on righteous anger.

"Then I suggest you leave and let me get to it,” he growled, trying to steady his trembling voice. He thrust out a hand, silently asking Blaine for the car key. Blaine's face softened, his eyes melting to that sultry honey color that made Kurt weak at the knees. He took Kurt's hand in his and brought it swiftly to his lips. He paused a breath, then kissed Kurt's knuckles. Kurt watched Blaine's eyelids drift closed as he pressed his lips to his skin. His skin tingled where Blaine's lips touched him, traveling in waves up his arm and spiraling out all over his body. Kurt was so shocked that he couldn't even think to grab his hand back. Blaine began to pull away, lifting his gaze to meet Kurt's. Kurt's eyes still glowed with blue flame, but not out of anger this time.

Blaine released Kurt's hand and backed away.

"I'll be back in an hour," Blaine promised, "and then maybe we can discuss working out those kinks you mentioned."

Kurt was about to call after him, to remind Blaine that he had forgotten to leave the key, but he had a hard time finding his voice. The feeling in Kurt's tingling skin came back and he curled his fingers into his palm, making a fist. That’s when he realized that when Blaine had kissed him, he had also slipped the key into his hand.

Kurt stood for a moment, key clutched in one hand, clipboard grasped tightly in the other, more stunned than ever. He felt another presence nearby, and looked over to where his father watched from just inside the office door. Burt followed Blaine with his eyes, then turned to look at his son. Kurt locked eyes with his father, and Burt raised a questioning eyebrow. Kurt stared numbly, mouth slightly agape, lips moving as he attempted to speak words. His dad chuckled, shaking his head. He left Kurt alone with the Corolla and went back to work.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt did the oil change on the Corolla alone, demanding that his dad sit down behind the counter and rest. It was a good enough excuse to get time to himself to contemplate Blaine’s motives. Kurt couldn't stop thinking about Blaine kissing his hand. He had never been properly kissed by another boy in his life, and now he began to imagine what those soft, full lips might feel like pressed against his own, or possibly on other places over his body. Kurt hustled to finish, concentrating on his work to settle his body and keep it from responding to the thought of Blaine’s kisses. He vacuumed the carpets, cleaned the windows, and checked the air pressure on the tires. Burt looked quizzically at his son, lured by the flurry of activity after Kurt’s sluggish morning and examined Kurt's work.

Kurt looked up at the smirk on his father's face and grimaced. He hated being so transparent.

"There's nothing wrong with going the extra mile," Kurt answered without being asked. "We need repeat customers."

"I didn't say anything," Burt said, stepping back with his hands in the air. "I appreciate your dedication. Just one thing?"

"What, dad?" Kurt groaned. "I'm kind of busy."

"Is he gay?"

Kurt stood up quickly and smacked his head on the steering wheel. He put a hand to the sore back of his head and turned to see his dad laughing silently. Kurt couldn't help but let a smile slip.

"Yes, he's gay,” Kurt answered, “but that has nothing to do with providing excellent customer service."

"Sure, kiddo," Burt said, making his way back to the counter and leaving Kurt to finish his work, "whatever you say."

 

* * *

 

 

Blaine came back exactly an hour later, and from the moment he stepped through the bay doors Kurt felt his heart race inside his chest. Kurt expected Blaine to make a bee line for him, but he didn't. He glanced Kurt's way with a polite smile, and then headed straight for Burt sitting behind the counter. Kurt watched as Blaine and Burt talked. His father wasn’t one to open up to people right away, but soon they were talking back and forth with smiles on their faces, lost in conversation. At one point, Blaine said something that had Burt throwing his head back with laughter, shaking his head from side to side.

Kurt felt so conflicted it was maddening. He didn't know if he was more annoyed that Blaine seemed to be paying no attention to him after pursuing him so ardently, or that Blaine had gotten his father to laugh that carefree, full body laugh that Kurt hadn't seen in years. Kurt stared hard, waiting for some sort of acknowledgement, but Blaine and Burt didn't seem too eager to end their conversation, and they definitely didn't seem too concerned with Kurt, so Kurt walked to where Mark was struggling with a radiator flush and decided to offer some assistance.

As was the way of things around the shop, Mark eventually left Kurt to finish up the radiator service alone, and wandered off to the back to inventory some plugs. Kurt let his mind drift as he went through the motions of siphoning out the fluid and draining the reservoir, all the while running lyrics for his NYADA audition piece through his head. He was stuck between choosing a Whitney Houston song, or something a little more Broadway like “I’m the Greatest Star” from  _Funny Girl_ , but his thoughts kept returning to the boy in the leather jacket a mere twenty feet away, who had apparently made Burt Hummel his new best friend.

Kurt sighed. This hyper-infatuation he had with Blaine had to stop. He had only met him last night and already Blaine had slipped seamlessly into his daydreams.

Kurt dreamt about his audition for NYADA, and there Blaine was, sitting in the audience, watching him, eyes blown wide with awe and adoration. Kurt imagined he was leaving school after a hard day in dance class, and there was Blaine showing up in his leather jacket to walk him home. Kurt fantasized that he was in his tiny shoebox apartment, taking an early morning shower and preparing for the day, when along came Blaine, climbing in behind him, gloriously naked, sucking on his neck, his soapy hands wandering down along his sides, light fingertips making trails through the suds...

A hand tapped Kurt gently on the shoulder.

"Cheesus!" Kurt screeched as he jumped like a bolt and tossed the empty plastic container of radiator flush straight into the air, sending it vaulting over the Celica he was working on and slamming into the office window. From behind him, Kurt heard Burt roar with laughter. Kurt turned slowly, small droplets of bluish liquid clinging to his hair, his cheeks so red they almost pulsated. Blaine stood a short distance away, biting his lips curled over his teeth to stifle a grin.

"I am so sorry I startled you, Kurt," Blaine said when he finally dared to speak. "I thought for sure you heard me coming up behind you."

"No," Kurt said, nonchalantly brushing damp locks from his face, ignoring the rivulets of fluid flowing down from his brow, trying to sound nonplussed by it all. "No, I didn't hear you. Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, actually…" Blaine closed the distance between them so he could whisper in Kurt's ear. "I wanted to know if you would be at the race tonight?"

"Most likely," Kurt replied, his voice breathy as the stubble on Blaine's cheek tickled his neck, sending tiny jolts racing everywhere they touched. “I _do_  have a job to do, you know.”

"Great," Blaine said, pulling away with a smile.

Blaine turned and walked away, climbing into the Corolla with a final wave to Burt, which the older man enthusiastically returned. Kurt followed Blaine with his eyes as he drove off, the back of his hand tingling where it longed to be kissed.

 

* * *

 

The races were held in the same business park as the night before. Kurt figured this was probably where they were always held. The area was open to eight lanes of traffic, deserted, and there didn’t seem to be any police presence this time of night. That didn’t necessarily mean the cops didn’t know about the races, but with this amount of kids driving cars that could easily break 100 miles per hour in nearly nothing flat, they probably couldn’t be bothered. The Lima P. D. most likely didn’t have a single car that could keep up with the likes of Kurt’s Eclipse, not to mention Sebastian’s GT-R, so it wouldn’t be worth their trouble. They’d let the kids do their thing, and then come out to handle the situation if there was a major fight…or if someone died.

When Kurt arrived, he didn't see Blaine anywhere. Sebastian wasted no time monopolizing Kurt, swearing up and down that his GT-R was making a pinging noise he had never heard before. Kurt knew it was just another excuse by Sebastian to have Kurt bent over his engine, but with a beauty like Bas's GT-R, Kurt couldn't really say that he minded.

Kurt employed every trick in his arsenal to block Sebastian's presence from his mind while he futilely chased a mysterious ailment that Kurt knew didn't exist. Sebastian leaned in close, watching Kurt work.

"Do you always sing while you work?" Sebastian asked. Kurt stopped immediately. He didn't realize he had been singing. He usually didn’t sing in public unless he was competing, but he found himself slipping up more and more as he thought about his upcoming audition.

"Not always," Kurt said, standing upright and dismissing the subject. "I'm going to check your NOS canister. This line doesn't look quite right."

Kurt walked around to the car door and let himself inside.

 _'Oh God, those seats do smell fantastic,'_  Kurt thought. Suddenly he remembered the leather seats in Blaine's Mustang, how cool and smooth they felt beneath his hands, and that smell...that had to have been Blaine's smell. Just thinking about it...

"Because it's really fantastic."

Kurt swallowed suddenly, choking a little. He turned to look at Sebastian's face.

"Wait...what?"

"Your voice," Sebastian clarified. "I said it was really fantastic. Why don't you consider attending Dalton? We have an excellent a cappella choir. The Warblers. We're kind of like rock stars. And we could sure use a voice like yours."

"Really?" Kurt stood up and looked boldly into Sebastian's green eyes. "Are you really interested in my voice, or do you just have some weird fantasy that involves a prep school uniform?"

Sebastian bit his lower lip and shook his head.

Kurt returned to the NOS canister and reconnected the line.

"You might not want to keep pulling on that," Kurt said, and Sebastian's face went blank. Kurt snickered.

 _'Jesus Christ,'_  Kurt thought.  _'Cars and sex, that's all these guys think about.'_

That's when he spotted Blaine. He smiled subconsciously until he saw Blaine’s arms wrapped around the waist of some other man Kurt hadn't seen before. They were hugging and laughing, lost in their own world amidst the mob of drivers and spectators. The man in Blaine’s arms was older, taller, and had an amazing head of tawny-colored hair. Kurt held his breath, waiting for them to break apart. He became light-headed, blowing the held breath out forcefully, and yet the two still stayed linked in each other's arms.

Kurt felt a warm breath tickle his neck as the familiar smell of CK wafted around him.

"Ouch," Sebastian said with a chuckle, following Kurt's eye line and seeing the couple embrace one more time before the tall man bent down and pressed his lips to Blaine's cheek.

Kurt cursed to himself, his eyes going misty for a moment. He turned quickly and jogged off down the line of cars just as Blaine turned his eyes, following Kurt's form as he stormed away. Kurt grabbed Monster's elbow with his slender hand, eyes firmly downcast.

"Come on, Monster," Kurt barked, pulling the giant along with him to his Charger. "Let's go see how you managed to fuck up your plugs this time."

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Kurt wished he had a vice other than cars. He always admired the drama of a spurned character finding solace at some seedy bar where they could smoke or drink their troubles away. But he had nothing. Well, he had Bokwa and the occasional shot of wheat grass, but he wasn't sure those qualified as vices. For five races he had avoided Blaine. Every time Blaine even looked as if he might come over to talk to Kurt, Kurt found someplace else he had to be. The first time, he jetted off to the porta potty, even though Kurt Hummel would never be caught dead using a porta potty. The second time, he had ducked down behind Monster's Charger, garnering a strange look from the massive boy. The third time, he had actually resorted to hopping into Jeff's 300ZX when Jeff decided to stretch his car's legs, risking the passive aggressive distaste of Nick Duval, and they shot off down the road and around the block for about 20 minutes.

But Blaine was becoming hard to avoid.

Kurt was trapped between his car and Wes’s when he saw Blaine look his way, his body language projecting his intention to go over and approach him.

"I have to run back to the shop," Kurt declared when Blaine's eyes lock with his. "I'll be back in 30." As Blaine headed his way, Kurt hopped nimbly into his Eclipse through the open window and fired up the engine. Blaine saw the move, turned tail, and rushed to his Mustang. He leapt into the driver’s seat, turned the key in the ignition, and threw the car into gear, all in one smooth move. He watched Kurt’s car blow by him, and shot out onto the main drag after him.

Kurt heard the Mustang before he saw it, even over the rumble of the next race about to start. Kurt's Eclipse glided swiftly over the asphalt as he veered down a street that he thought he recognized, feeling for certain it would take him back home. After a couple of miles, the street lamps disappeared, and the only lights around were the headlights of the two cars and the glow of the full moon overhead.  
  
After a long while of driving, longer than Kurt anticipated, he noticed that Blaine was no longer trying to keep up, and he breathed a sigh of relief. That relief was short lived when Kurt peered into the darkness, seeing further down the road, and realized why. Without a chance to change direction, Kurt drove into an alley between two buildings, with another building only a mile or so ahead.

"Shit shit shit!" Kurt muttered angrily to himself as he threw his car quickly into reverse. Kurt looked into his rearview mirror to see Blaine's car parked behind his, blocking Kurt's only exit. Blaine had already gotten out and was coming his way. Kurt had no room to open his car door, so he climbed out of the window again and shimmied along the space between his car and the wall. Blaine walked toward him. Needing the upper hand, Kurt rushed forward to confront him.

"Why the hell are you following me?" Kurt growled.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Blaine countered.

"I thought you said you weren't playing me!"

"I'm not!" Blaine's incredulous expression angered Kurt.

"Oh, really?" Kurt shot back. "Then who's the guy with the white man's perm you were hanging all over?"

Blaine's eyes shifted as he thought, and then he laughed.

"You mean Jeremiah?" Blaine asked with a chuckle.

"How the hell should I know," Kurt groused.

Blaine shook his head, smiling.

"No, he's just a friend," Blaine explained, walking closer to Kurt. Kurt backed away at his approach. "He just got into Stanford. He's moving to California with his boyfriend."

 _California...with his boyfriend..._ Kurt was incredibly jealous.

Then he came to his senses, and he was mortified.

He had just laid all his cards out on the table. Now Blaine would know...

"Wait, wait, wait," Blaine said. Kurt didn't realize they had still been walking until the back of his knees hit the rear bumper of his car, and he was trapped...again.

Kurt was beginning to sense a pattern.

"No, I wasn't," Kurt said, anticipating the words before they left Blaine's mouth.

Blaine smiled.

"Whatever you're thinking right now, it's completely untrue," Kurt persisted.

Blaine leaned in close while Kurt leaned away, but there was nowhere left for Kurt to go.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered, his voice low and sinful, "do I detect a little bit of jealousy?"

"No," Kurt said quickly.  _'No, you detect a LOT of jealousy.'_

"I mean, what...what do I have to be jealous of?" Kurt eyed Blaine darkly as Blaine moved in on him, pursing his lips and blowing a cool breath of air over the column of Kurt's neck. Goosebumps spread like wildfire over the expanse of Kurt's skin, delighting Blaine to no end.

"That's right," Blaine said as he moved down Kurt's neck, inhaling as he went, searching out that elusive scent of vanilla. "What do you have to worry about?"

"I..." Kurt stammered nervously and he hated himself for it. "I'm worried that I'm mistaking flattery for affection."

Blaine stopped and looked up into Kurt's face. Kurt's eyes were closed, but his expression was almost frightened.

"I...I'm worried because I've never had a boyfriend," Kurt continued, his voice sounding broken as he spoke. "I'm worried because I've never been kissed...at least, not one that counted. I'm worried because I'm not sure I know what this is, and I don't know why a guy like you would like me when you could probably pick anyone you wanted, male or female, and at home in California, the general consensus was that I had all the sexual appeal of a baby penguin."

Blaine would have laughed if Kurt didn't look so undone. Blaine leaned away, gripping Kurt's elbow and pulling him back upright.

Blaine breathed out slowly. He was right. Kurt was going to be a challenge, but the challenge had changed.

The new challenge was to not break Kurt's heart.

And Blaine never turned his back on a challenge.

"Kurt," Blaine said, his voice soothing. "Kurt, please look at me."

Kurt blinked and opened his eyes, looking into Blaine's face.

"Kurt, I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to get to know you," Blaine said, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's arm. "And for what it's worth, I think you have much more appeal than a baby penguin."

Blaine left out the word sexual. He didn't want Kurt to get the wrong impression.

"And whatever this is," Blaine said, gesturing between the two of them, "I'm willing to wait for it to happen."

Blaine ran his hand down Kurt's arm, taking Kurt's hand in his. He raised it to his eye level. He took a moment to look at the smooth, pale skin, covered with a light smudge of grease. Blaine pulled a handkerchief purposefully from his pocket. Kurt took a second to be impressed because he didn't know anyone who carried a handkerchief anymore. Blaine wiped at the spot on Kurt's hand with the handkerchief, staining the white fabric black, but Blaine didn't seem at all concerned. When Kurt's skin was cleaned to Blaine's satisfaction, he stuffed the cloth back into his pocket. Then he raised Kurt's hand to his lips and kissed it.

"I'm willing to wait for you," Blaine whispered against Kurt's skin.

Blaine saw an almost pained look cloud Kurt's blue eyes. Blaine carefully dropped Kurt’s hand and pulled his body into the circle of his arms, winding them around Kurt’s frame and rubbing his back in soothing circles. Kurt broke a little, wrapping his arms around Blaine and holding him tight.

There they stood, bathed in moonlight, trapped between their cars, the low hum of racers in the distance a gentle lullaby in the humid air.

Blaine could feel Kurt all around him, and even though Kurt was slightly taller, they fit together like the pieces of an abstract puzzle. Blaine smiled, perching his chin on Kurt's shoulder. This felt so comfortable.

It felt so _right_.

The insistent vibrating of Kurt's iPhone brought Kurt back from the comfort of Blaine's embrace.

"I have to get that," Kurt apologized. "It might be my dad."

Blaine nodded. Kurt pulled his phone from his pocket and read the text.

"It's Wes." Kurt squinted at the bright light of the screen. "He says they're packing it in early." Kurt pocketed his phone and looked back at Blaine. "I guess I'd better head home."

"May I drive with you?" Blaine offered. "Make sure you get home safe and all."

"You don't have to," Kurt said, hoping that Blaine would insist.

"I don't have anywhere better to be." Blaine looked deep into Kurt’s eyes, letting the sincerity of his words shine through. "In fact, there's no place else I want to be."

And with those few words, Blaine had done the impossible. He had taken Kurt's breath away.

 


	6. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This takes place during chapter 5 of the original Need for Speed story, when Blaine is talking to Jeremiah and Kurt gets jealous. Inspired by the Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge Day 9 prompt "Ice".

Jeremiah shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he maneuvered through the groups of teams gathered tightly together around their cars, hoods opened, displaying their engines while the mechanics buzzed around like bees. Jeremiah tightened his arms and went rigid, trying to keep his body heat trapped beneath the thin fabric of the military style jacket his boyfriend had lent him.

 _‘Such a California boy,’_  Jeremiah mused, shaking his head of tawny brown curls as a shiver shot through him.  _‘Choosing style over function.’_  He smiled at the thought of his adorable surfer boy, and relished the fact that at least the jacket still smelled like Ryan – a comforting mixture of Coppertone and salt water.

His blue eyes swept the scene, hoping to find the McKinley Crew, a familiar black Mustang, and its charming owner.

Jeremiah remembered running with Blaine’s crew, back when he craved racing fast cars and the drama that went with it. That’s how he met Blaine. Even a few years younger than him, Jeremiah couldn’t deny that that boy was a heart breaker. Blaine crushed on Jeremiah pretty hard, too. For a while, it was all Jeremiah could do to keep turning him down. Eventually, Blaine got the hint, and the two of them managed to maintain a close friendship since they shared one thing – disapproving parents. Granted, when it came to disappointment, Blaine’s parents won the prize hands down. Once Jeremiah got into Stanford, his parents came around, accepting him, his lifestyle, and the sexy boyfriend that went along with it.

Jeremiah finally caught sight of his friend, perched on the hood of his precious car, eyes gazing longingly up a slight rise where a rival crew’s cars sat lined up together. Jeremiah knew Blaine wasn’t really into imports, which described every car on display.

 _‘So…’_  Jeremiah thought to himself with a smile as he eyed the drivers, looking for anyone new that he might not recognize,  _‘there must be a guy…’_

Blaine spotted Jeremiah as he approached, his mega-watt smile about a thousand times brighter than when Jeremiah last saw him.

 _‘Must be a_ hot _guy…’_

“Jeremiah!” Blaine greeted him, wrapping his arms around his friend’s waist. “So this is it, huh? You’re really leaving us then?”

“Yup,” Jeremiah said. “Leaving your sorry asses in search of sunnier climes.”

Blaine started to pull away, but Jeremiah moved with him, objecting with a whine at the loss of body heat.

“Oh, don’t let go so fast, Anderson. You’re warm, and I’m freezing.”

Blaine chuckled as he held on tighter.

“So,” Jeremiah teased, “tell me about this guy…”

Blaine sighed, turning his head to where the Dalton cars sat parked with their owners loitering nearby. Blaine sought out and found Kurt, bouncing between Hunter’s gold Silvia and Sebastian’s GT-R.

“You see that gorgeous angel over there in the gunmetal gray overalls?”

Jeremiah’s eyes flicked up the rise to where a tall, lithe figure moved from car to car, looking intensely at the screen of a handheld device.

“You mean the one Smythe has his eyes all over?”

Blaine inadvertently tightened his grip.

“Yeah,” Blaine growled. “That’s a bit of a complication.”

“Wouldn’t a bigger complication be that he’s a member of the Dalton Crew?” Jeremiah smirked.

“That’s no biggie,” Blaine said. “He goes to McKinley and he lives here in Lima. He works at his dad’s tire shop.”

“And are you sure his big appeal isn’t that nabbing him would piss the pants off of Wes?”

Blaine looked up at Jeremiah - a big, goofy grin curling the corners of his mouth.

“Nah, man. I mean, that’s a plus, don’t get me wrong. But that doesn’t matter. He’s it, man. The real deal.”

Jeremiah nodded. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“Yup,” Blaine said suggestively, cocking an eyebrow. “Turned on the old Anderson charm."

This time, Jeremiah laughed in earnest. “So, what happened after he slapped you?”

Blaine’s cocky grin turned sour. “And therein lies the only real problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I think he hates me.”

"Awww," Jeremiah teased, leaning in and kissing Blaine on the cheek. "Who could hate you, Blainers?"

Blaine laughed, nearly snorting, and shook his head.

Jeremiah looked back toward Blaine’s beautiful boy with interest and huffed out a laugh. "Uh...so you think he hates you, huh?"

"Yup," Blaine said as his laughter died down.

“Well, something tells me that’s not going to change any time soon.”

Blaine broke away from Jeremiah’s embrace and chanced a glance toward the Dalton cars to see a flash of ice blue trained his way for just a second, a glare set to kill, before Kurt stormed off.

“Shit!” Blaine exhaled. “What the fuck!?”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes at his clueless friend.

“Blaine?” Jeremiah clamped a hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. “I think this would be a perfect time to try and go break the ice.”

Blaine nodded briefly, turning to Jeremiah and flashing him a quick smile before darting away after his prize.

Jeremiah laughed.

 _‘Teenager drama,’_  he thought with a sigh.  _‘Thank God all of that is behind me.’_

 


	7. Chapter 6

Blaine showed up at the shop first thing in the morning, driving his mom's Corolla, but this time he parked out front beside Kurt’s Eclipse. Kurt smiled, touched that Blaine would park beside his car, but he wished Blaine had been driving the Mustang and not that rinky-dink Toyota. He knew it would turn him on to no end to see their cars parked side-by-side. He watched stealthily from behind the Ford in front of him as Blaine approached Burt where he sat behind the counter and handed him a cup of coffee from some place called the Lima Bean.

 _Lima Bean_. Ironic. Kurt almost laughed.

Burt raised his hand in a gesture of thanks, and said something Kurt couldn’t hear. Blaine made a return comment that had Burt laughing once again. Kurt shook his head, astounded at how quickly Blaine seemed to win over his father.

_What the heck had they been talking about?_

Burt motioned to Kurt, and they both turned his way. Kurt immediately flicked his eyes down, not eager to be caught gawking. Blaine said a light-hearted, “Thank you, sir,” and then Kurt heard heavy footsteps on the concrete floor.

Kurt looked up in time to see Blaine headed his way, carrying another cup, a slow-burning grin forming on his face. He stopped at Kurt’s station and held the cup out to him. Kurt smiled graciously.

"Thank you." Kurt reached out and accepted the cup. "That's very sweet. You didn’t have to."

"Consider it a bribe," Blaine said. He watched as Kurt took a sip, eyes traveling along the long column of Kurt’s neck as he tilted his chin up to drink, swallowing subconsciously when Kurt swallowed. Kurt sighed and Blaine could see his entire body relax as the knots in his muscles finally started to unwind.

"Thanks so much," Kurt said with something close to a moan. "I really needed that.”

That admission lit a fire deep in Blaine’s belly. He liked the idea of giving Kurt something he needed.

He _really_ liked the idea of being able to make Kurt moan.

Kurt lifted the cup back to his lips, took another long sip, and sighed again.

“But for future reference, I'm more of a non-fat mocha person," he said with a wink.

"Noted." Blaine winked back.

Kurt noticed Blaine staring, unashamedly keeping his eyes locked on Kurt’s face, and he turned away to avoid blushing. He focused his attention outside the shop, where Blaine had parked his mom’s car carefully beside Kurt’s Eclipse.

"Still driving under cover, I see," Kurt said, gesturing to the black Toyota.

"That I am." Blaine pulled up a metal stool and sat to watch Kurt enjoy the rest of the coffee.

"And may I ask why the bribe?"

Blaine looked over his shoulder to where Burt was drinking his coffee, paying no attention to what the two boys were doing. Blaine leaned forward in his seat, beckoning Kurt to come nearer. Kurt inched closer, intrigued.

"When are you going to help me with my NOS?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt pulled a confused face, his smiling eyes betraying his planned ruse.

"Did I say I was going to help you?" Kurt smirked. "I don't recall agreeing to any such thing." Kurt turned his back on Blaine and walked off toward one of the far stations, biting his lip to keep from laughing and giving himself away.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine begged, tailing close behind as Kurt started to work on a dark green Chevy.

"Doesn't your crew have their own mechanic?" Kurt asked, keeping his back to Blaine as he spoke.

"Not really," Blaine said. "Doesn't matter, though, because I want you."

Kurt froze.

There it was again. Those words that were destined to kill him.

"How do you know I'm even any good?" Kurt asked, trying his best to sound detached.

"Oh, come on." Blaine rounded on Kurt as he cleaned a windshield, needing to see Kurt’s face when he talked to him. "Wes wouldn't want you for his crew if you weren't the best."

"Shhh!" Kurt peeked over the cars in the bay at his dad, but Burt had moved into the office. Kurt sighed with relief, his shoulders dropping. He motioned for Blaine to follow him, and led him back out of the shop to his mom’s Corolla.

"Why do you want me to work on your car so badly?" Kurt asked seriously, his gaze shifting back and forth between Blaine’s face and the open bay door of the shop, keeping an eye out for any unexpected appearance by his dad. "Honestly, there must be a grip of guys who can help you."

"I want you because you're intriguing, Kurt." Blaine looked boldly into Kurt's questioning eyes. "You're witty and smart…” Blaine’s grin turned mischievous, his voice dropping, becoming low and silky, “… and might I add damn sexy..."

Kurt looked fully away, trying to hide the small smile that he couldn't help. He didn’t need to inflate Blaine’s ego any more than it already was.

"And you can tell all of that after, what, three days is it?" Kurt bit his lip, recovering quickly.

"Yup,” Blaine said, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting his nose in the air in a haughty manner. “I happen to be an excellent judge of character."

Kurt saw the pose in his peripheral vision and giggled. Blaine warmed at the sound of Kurt’s musical laugh, but more at the thought that he might be getting through to Kurt.

"But mostly, I want to get to know you, Kurt." Blaine put a finger underneath Kurt's chin and turned his face towards his so he could look into Kurt's eyes again. "And having you work on my car would be an excuse to spend more time with you."

Kurt stared into Blaine’s honey-gold eyes and sighed.

"When do you need it done?" Kurt asked.

"Well, I would like it done tonight so I can race this week," Blaine said, a ridiculous smile on his face, his eyes becoming wide and hopeful in a way that reminded Kurt almost of Jeff. Blaine folded his hands beneath his chin as if he were praying. ‘Please?’ he mouthed.

Kurt laughed, unable to stop himself.

"Let me think about it," he hedged, reluctant to give Blaine a definitive answer.

Blaine clapped his hands together triumphantly.

“Don’t get too excited,” Kurt scolded. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

"But you’ll think about it, right?” Blaine asked.

“I already said I’d think about it,” Kurt repeated in mock frustration.

“That's better than no," Blaine said.

"Here," Kurt fished his phone out of his overalls pocket and handed it over to Blaine. "Give me your number so I can text you later. Let you know my decision." Blaine took Kurt's phone and entered in his information, typing his full name along with his phone number, and then handed it back to Kurt. Blaine waited until Kurt had pocketed the phone again before he grabbed his hand quickly and kissed it.

Kurt watched what could only be described as a giddy Blaine climb into his mom’s car, waving at Kurt one last time from the driver’s seat. He fired the engine and sped away, a move Kurt might expect in a Mustang, not a Corolla.

Blaine was showing off.

Kurt smiled so wide his face hurt, but as soon as the Corolla drove out of sight, a feeling that Kurt dreaded returned with a vengeance; the cold creep that filled his chest recently whenever he saw Blaine leave.

* * *

 

After Blaine left, work picked up at the shop, and time practically flew by. Whereas he usually occupied his mind planning out his NYADA audition or outlining the design for a new jacket he wanted to make, he found that today he had quite a bit to think about. While he banged out one monotonous oil change and tire rotation after another, he weighed the pros and cons of helping Blaine.

Regardless of the list he had started building in his head, getting to know Blaine better didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an evening.

Kurt had to admit that he liked Blaine. As much as he tried not to, he did, but he knew that liking Blaine came with certain…complications. Complications that could have a devastating impact on all his carefully laid plans.

One unexpected plus was that his dad seemed to like Blaine already, so that was one hurdle tackled and overcome.

Blaine was pursuing Kurt pretty hardcore, which Kurt normally considered a huge turn-off - case in point being Chandler back home, and more recently, Sebastian - but Blaine seemed like an upstanding guy. The only catch was that Blaine was a member of the McKinley Crew, Dalton’s biggest rival. Correction. From what he gathered from all the gossiping girls that tittered endlessly about how hot Blaine was, he was the _leader_ of the McKinley Crew. Hanging with Blaine would definitely be shooting himself in the foot. Wes would permanently flip out, and Kurt’s cushy job would be over before he even started making any real money.

Was a relationship of any kind with Blaine worth taking that risk?

His head, which housed his overwhelming ambition, said definitely not.

But his heart…it had other ideas.

On his first break of the morning, Kurt felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He fished it out and looked at the screen, staring at the number in confusion. It wasn’t one he had listed in his contacts and it didn't look at all familiar. Kurt contemplated not answering it and letting the call go to voicemail, but there was a lull in his work load and he was just plain curious. For a brief second he hoped that it would turn out to be Blaine, but then he realized with a frown that it couldn't be. As far as he knew, Blaine didn't have his number.

He tapped the screen to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, gorgeous."

The voice he heard lit a spark inside Kurt, but not in a good way.

"Uh, Sebastian?" Kurt asked, annoyed. "How did you get my number?"

"I swiped your phone while you were fixing my car and used it to call my own phone," Sebastian explained, sounding all too proud of himself.

Kurt groaned internally, wondering how difficult would it be to change his cell phone number.

"What do you need, Bas?" Kurt asked, not even trying to hide his aggravation. He rested his head against the counter, wishing this conversation would end. "I need to get back to work."

"Okay, okay." Sebastian chuckled. "I'll make it quick.”

Kurt highly doubted it.

“I wanted to invite you to a get together Wes is having tonight."

"You guys are having a party at the dorms?" Kurt asked skeptically. If the Dalton boys could swing a party at the dorms, he might have to reconsider going there. "How are you getting away with that?"

"Oh, we’re not having it at the dorms,” Sebastian explained. “I mean, we could if we wanted to, but then all the undesirables would show up.”

Kurt bit his tongue after hearing that comment, stopping himself before he could say anything rash.

“Then where are you having it?” Kurt asked instead.

“We're having it at Wes's house. His folks won't be home and the place is basically a mansion...lots of rooms..."

Kurt's rolled eyes were wasted on the smug boy on the other end of the phone.

At first blush, Kurt really didn't want to go. Being from Westerville meant that the Dalton boys actually lived a few hours away from Lima, and Kurt didn’t look forward to that drive. Then there was the fact that Wes's crew was a little less than inviting where Kurt was concerned. Kurt felt like a major outsider around them, despite Jeff’s unquenchable enthusiasm at having him as part of the team.

Jeff. He could see becoming really good friends with Jeff.

Then there was Wes. Wes seemed to expect Kurt to spend all of his free time with the crew. Kurt had bowed out a couple of times already, but what if not attending cost him his job? After all, Wes _did_ mention throwing a lot of money his way. Kurt couldn’t afford to lose out on that.

Maybe getting to know the members of the Dalton crew better was an intelligent option, but more than likely Sebastian would spend every minute of the night dogging him.

Kurt wanted a social life, but he didn't want Sebastian.

That brought him full circle back to Blaine.

When Kurt thought about spending the night alone in the garage with Blaine, his entire body tingled, as if the kiss on his hand was surging throughout his body at the mere idea of the sultry, sexy boy who seemed to enjoy teasing Kurt.

Kurt found that he enjoyed being teased.

"Kurt?" The cocky voice on the other end of the line broke him from his daydreaming.

"Let me think about it, Sebastian." Kurt banged his forehead lightly on the surface in front of him. "I'll text you later if I decide to come by."

Silence followed his answer, and Kurt tried to picture Sebastian, pouting because he didn’t get the answer he wanted. The thought kind of amused him.

"Okay." Sebastian sounded resigned, disappointed. "Don’t take too long. I'll be waiting."

"Don't worry." Kurt kicked the counter absently with his heavy boots in time to the banging of his forehead. "I won't make you wait long."

Kurt disconnected the call without a good-bye.

He kept banging his forehead and swinging his legs as this new information swirled together with his thoughts from the morning.

He tried to picture how a night with the Dalton Crew would turn out.

Driving to Westerville alone in his Eclipse.

Partying and most likely drinking with the boys from Dalton (or watching them drink since that wasn’t something Kurt did).

A big bear hug from Jeff (accompanied by a death glare from Nick Duval).

An extremely intense Wes.

An even more intense Dave.

Being ignored by Hunter.

Prying Sebastian’s hands from every part of his body that the meerkat-faced boy could reach.

Kurt groaned quietly.

Then he pictured a night spent with Blaine, fixing his Mustang.

A quiet night in the shop.

That beautiful car and those sinful leather seats.

Getting to know each other better.

Blaine’s flirty smiles.

Those hazel-gold eyes watching him.

Maybe another kiss on the hand.

Kurt’s groan morphed into a sigh.

“Uh, kiddo?” Kurt heard his father’s voice coming from behind him.

Kurt stopped assaulting the counter.

“Yeah, dad?” he asked, acting as if his behavior was completely normal.

“Is everything okay out here?”

Kurt couldn’t help but notice that his father sounded concerned, but also on the brink of laughing.

He lifted his head to look at his dad.

“Yeah,” he replied, sitting up and straightening his overalls. “Everything’s just fine.”

Burt nodded, unconvinced.

“Well, I’m heading out,” he said, fixing his cap on top of his head. “Is there anything you need before I go?”

“Nope,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “Nope, I’m all good here.”

Burt gave his son a significant look.

“Are you sure?”

That was a question that Kurt would normally dismiss with another curt nod, but this time he thought about it.

When he came up with an answer, an honest answer, he smiled.

“Yes,” he said confidently. “I’m sure.”

Burt wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders and squeezed.

“Alright, then. If you need anything, make sure you call.”

“I will,” Kurt agreed. Burt patted his son on the back a few times, and then walked off toward his truck. Kurt watched him go, still debating, but his decision was basically made. Mark would be gone in another hour, and then it would Kurt, alone, with the whole night ahead of him.

He hadn't lied. Sebastian didn't have to wait long for an answer.

_(5:15 P.M.) From: Kurt_

_About tonight...Sorry, but I won't be able to make it._  

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter I give a nod to an amazing story 'Ride' written by Janelle (nellie12). Read it (it's amazing) and you will catch the reference. :)

_(5:16 P.M.) From Kurt_

_Bring your Mustang by tonight after we close. And keep it on the down low. No one needs to know but us._

***

Blaine sat on the rickety metal stool at Kurt’s station - the kind where all four legs didn’t seem to be the same length so it tilted back and forth with the slightest movement. Blaine shifted his weight uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting all over the shop, doing his best not to stare at Kurt’s body while he worked. He tried his hardest to focus his attention anywhere else. He looked up at the rows of ceiling lights, noticing how some were brighter than others, taking note (for no real reason) of the ones that would need to be changed soon. Then he looked at the red, white, and blue safety posters plastered on the walls. He memorized all the services Hummel Tires and Lube offered, including all their prices. Then he mentally tried to calculate the tax. Anything to keep from gawking at of Kurt's smoking hot body as he moved swiftly around, dipping in and out of Blaine's car, bending underneath the hood, connecting and reconnecting lines, until Blaine couldn't take it anymore. He got up off the stool to pace the floor like an expectant father, worrying the same three foot swath of cement over and over.

Kurt noticed Blaine bolt up off his stool from the corner of his eye and bit his lip.

"Don't worry, Blaine," Kurt assured him with a coy giggle when he noticed Blaine’s pained expression. "Your baby's in good hands."

"Ugh," Blaine moaned at the comment, thinking of Kurt’s hands all over his car.

 _Lucky car_ …

Blaine rubbed his face roughly with his fingertips, paving lines down his cheeks, needing the distraction.

Kurt stood up fully and turned to face Blaine.

"Or am I taking too long?" Kurt asked in a teasing tone. "If I remember correctly, you said you don't mind waiting."

Blaine peeked at Kurt over his fingertips, anguish etched in the corners of his eyes. Kurt smiled even wider, sadistically enjoying the torture he was apparently inflicting.

"No, no," Blaine said, reaching up to run a hand through his mop of hair, dislodging a curl or two from the thin layer of raspberry scented gel he used to keep it tamed, "you're not taking too long. It's just, uh..."

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his toe while he waited for Blaine to explain, fixing him with knowing eyes.

"You're trying to keep from staring at my ass?" Kurt offered with a smirk at the look of surprise on Blaine's face. Blaine’s mouth dropped open. He stumbled dumbly over verbal static while he tried to come up with an excuse.

“No, I…uh…um…uh…”

"Yeah, don't worry," Kurt interrupted, waving a dismissive hand through the air and rescuing Blaine from having to think of some lamely crafted lie. "I'm getting used to it." Kurt came back around to the driver side door. "Around the Dalton Crew, I'm like the shiny new toy.” Kurt laughed humorlessly. “Sebastian gets that same look on his face when I'm working on his lines."

Blaine dropped his hands and locked his jaw shut, his eyes becoming suddenly hard and cold. He didn't like being compared to that pompous asshole prick. But more than that, he didn't like the idea of Sebastian staring at Kurt's body, pressuring him, making him uncomfortable. Blaine thought about what it must be like for Kurt: the leering, the inappropriate comments, the uninvited touches, the constant invasion of his personal space. Blaine never had to go through that. He hated that Kurt did.

Blaine sighed, wishing more than anything that there was something he could do to help, or at the very least, some way to make the harassment stop.

"Is it worth it?" he asked softly.

"Hmm?" Kurt murmured off-handedly, only half-hearing what the other boy said while he replaced another line. “Is what worth it?”

"Putting up with all of…that,” Blaine said carefully, “just for money?"

Kurt stopped what he was doing, his body going rigid, hands frozen in mid-air with the line pinched between his fingers. He put the line down and stood from the car slowly. He turned and looked at Blaine. It didn’t dawn on Kurt what Blaine must truly think of him, knowing what he had to go through. His gaze drifted down to his feet and he smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. It seemed bitter, resentful.

"I have this dream," Kurt confessed, "and it's the only dream I've had since I was little. That's to be on Broadway."

Kurt caught sight of Blaine's gaze - warm and patient. The expression on Blaine’s face told Kurt that he could say whatever he needed to say with the promise of no judgment or ridicule, so he continued.

"Out in California, everything was gravy. I was on my way. I was going to Pace..."

Kurt wasn’t sure that Blaine would know anything about Pace, but Blaine’s eyes went wide at the mention of the name.

"The performing arts high school?" Blaine asked. Kurt nodded, his cheeks coloring with pride.

“Props to you,” Blaine said with awe. “I heard that school’s one of the best performing arts schools in the nation.”

“It is,” Kurt affirmed.

“I also heard it’s a bitch to get into.”

"Yeah," Kurt huffed. "Had to audition to get in.” Kurt remembered that audition, clear as if it had happened yesterday. His heart thrummed with the memory of how absolutely petrified he was. Preparing for his audition to Pace back then had been as nerve-wracking as preparing for his upcoming audition to NYADA, and just like NYADA, he needed that school. It was a stepping stone on his road to success. He missed it every day. “I was scared to death, but I did it."

"So, what do you do? Dance?" Blaine subconsciously flicked his eyes quickly over Kurt's body, lingering longer than he intended on Kurt’s long, limber legs. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I _sing_ ," Kurt said with emphasis, looking back down at his boots and bobbing his head.

 _Wow_ , Blaine thought, trying to imagine Kurt singing, knowing that the vision in his mind probably wasn’t coming close. _That must sound amazing._

"Anyway…" Kurt busied himself collecting up tools and wiping them down so he wouldn’t feel on display beneath Blaine’s eyes, "my dad had a heart attack...and then the shop went under. He had an opportunity out here so he took it.” Kurt shrugged, trying to make all the trials of his life thus far, all the things he cried about when he was alone in his bed at night, sound insignificant. “I had to leave school and all of my friends behind.”

Blaine whistled low.

“That sucks,” he commiserated. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Thanks, but the story gets better," Kurt said sarcastically. "I heard some BMX biker's boyfriend got my spot."

Blaine's brow furrowed in confusion, but then his eyes popped open, and an enthusiastic smile bloomed on his face.

"Wait, wait, wait," Blaine gushed, "have you been holding out on me? You're _that_ Kurt Hummel?"

Kurt turned on him with furious eyes, and Blaine knew he had struck a nerve.

"No, I'm not," Kurt muttered in frustration, "and don’t ask because I don't want to talk about it." Kurt turned back to his task, angrily shoving tools into drawers.

"Good," Blaine laughed a little. "Thank God, because I don't know how I'd feel about falling for someone whose name is tattooed on some other guy's chest."

Even from where Kurt stood with his back partially facing Blaine, he could see the color rise up Kurt’s neck to pool in his cheeks, a bashful smile curving at the corner of his lips.

“So, I guess money’s tight for you guys, huh?” Blaine deduced.

Kurt’s bashful smile faded, and his shoulders slumped.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Kurt exhaled.

Blaine bit his lip and swung his feet, staring sympathetically at Kurt’s bowed back, watching his hands grab at the tools and wipe them down.

"Have you ever thought about selling your Eclipse?" Blaine shot a look over his shoulder at Kurt’s car sitting outside the bay, blue paint twinkling in the light from the shop that flooded out into the night. "I mean, you don't really race it, and I know a couple of guys in the market for a sweet car like yours."

Kurt spun on his heels and scowled, his face twisted with a look of utter mortification. Blaine leaped back, the stool beneath him lurching backward and almost spilling him onto the floor. He threw up his arms defensively, still smiling.

"Okay, okay, kitty,” Blaine laughed. “Back down. I get it.”

Kurt glared at the goofy yet nervous grin on Blaine’s face. His grimace stayed, but his body warmed at the nickname.

He would take ‘kitty’ over ‘porcelain’ any day.  
  
"No." Kurt smiled again despite himself. "It's not like that. I probably could get good money for it, but...I don't know.” Kurt struggled to explain. “It’s pride? Vanity? I put that car together on my own. It's the only thing I started that I really finished. It represents me? Sort of?"

Kurt saw Blaine eyeing the car, nodding his head as if he understood.

"I'd do it as a last resort,” Kurt continued. “But it would take a lot...something really important for me to part with that car. And besides, I'm beginning to think..." Kurt shut the drawer on his tool cabinet harder than necessary, his body shuddering involuntarily. When he looked back at Blaine, Kurt had tears shimmering in his eyes. Blaine stood and walked slowly over to Kurt.

"Think what?" he asked softly.

Kurt hiccupped at first when he tried to speak.

"That my dreams are bigger than I am." Kurt's voice broke, and a single tear rolled down his cheek. Blaine reached out a hand and caught the tear on his thumb. Kurt watched as Blaine brought the tear to his mouth and kissed it away. Blaine brought a hand up to Kurt's cheek, running his fingertips gently down the soft skin. When the next tear fell, Blaine moved slowly, deliberately, bringing his lips to Kurt's cheek and kissing the tracks of his tears. Kurt closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of Blaine's lips against his skin.

When Kurt didn't object, Blaine's lips became bolder. He trailed kisses down Kurt's cheek to his jawline. Blaine's hand moved down the skin of Kurt's face to his neck, and then skimmed lightly over the fabric of his overalls, traveling from his shoulder to his chest, stopping to rest above his heart.

Blaine smiled against Kurt's skin at the wild racing that he could feel beneath his fingertips.

"Is this okay?" Blaine whispered.

Kurt couldn't move. He couldn't think to answer. The sensation of Blaine's breath on his skin was suddenly making his entire body shiver. Kurt nodded, barely, afraid of deterring this beautiful boy.

Kurt felt Blaine's free arm slip around his waist, his hand resting on the small of Kurt's back as Blaine's mouth found Kurt's pulse point below his jaw on his neck and pressed soft kisses to it. Then he sucked on the same spot, lightly, experimentally.

Kurt breathed in sharply as the tip of Blaine's tongue lavished the area with swirls of soothing circles. He tried to lose himself in the sensation of Blaine’s tongue sliding over his skin, of Blaine’s heat seeping into his body from every touch of his fingers and his lips, but Sebastian's voice crept uninvited into Kurt's thoughts, like an ill-forgotten friend whispering in his ear.

' _Blaine's not really the boyfriend type. He's more the love 'em and leave 'em kind.'_

Kurt didn't think that Sebastian was all that credible. He knew deep down that Sebastian had his own interests at heart, and those interests seemed to include getting into Kurt’s overalls. Blaine hadn’t shown Kurt that he was much of a heartbreaker, but in truth he had only known him for a few days. What did he really know? Sebastian might be a bastard, but that didn't mean he wasn't telling the truth. Highly unlikely, but still...

Kurt was confused. He wanted his first kiss, and he wanted it to be with Blaine. Oh God, did he want it to be with Blaine. But he also knew that he didn't want to be a notch on anyone's anything, and this was moving a little too fast for him to think straight.

When he felt Blaine's lips come around to his, Kurt opened his eyes and pulled away, breaking the spell around them. As soon as he left the circle of Blaine's arms, all of his warmth seemed to evaporate, especially the comforting blanket that had wound itself around his heart.

"Um," Kurt stuttered, trying to regain his composure even with Blaine's smoldering eyes gazing longingly at him and his hand lingering at the small of Kurt’s back, "I think that's it for your baby. She should work fine now."

Blaine swallowed hard, trying to think of a way to get Kurt back into his arms.

"You want to take her for a spin?" he asked, his voice low, alluring, and a little bit breathless, luring Kurt in, but Kurt somehow found the strength to stand his ground. He stared down at his feet to center himself, wiping the remaining tears from his cheek with the sleeve of his overalls. Then he looked back up at Blaine, whose own eyes had started to cool back to their normal honey color.

"Catch me next time?" Kurt asked with a hopeful smile, nodding his head. "It's getting really late, and I have to be back early in the morning. Besides, my dad’s probably freaking out by now. I think I was supposed to be home an hour ago…"

Blaine nodded, pulling away. The hand that held Kurt's back disappeared, and Kurt slumped, cursing himself internally for not launching himself at this gorgeous boy who obviously wanted to kiss him.

Blaine took Kurt's hand in his, rubbing his thumb across Kurt's knuckles, sending sparks racing over his skin with every touch. He looked into Kurt's eyes with a genuine smile. He raised Kurt's hand to his lips and softly brushed them against his skin.

Kurt's brow furrowed slightly at the gesture.

"Wh-why do you keep doing that?" Kurt asked, curious, but never wanting Blaine to stop.

Blaine hummed against Kurt’s hand.

"Because I'm a gentleman," he said softly, "and you're a gentleman. And I want to treat you like one."

Blaine slipped his hand out of Kurt's grasp, reluctant to leave, and slid into the driver’s seat of his car. Kurt watched Blaine fire the engine and back out. He followed the Mustang out of the car bay as Blaine maneuvered his car around. Blaine waved, resting his fingertips lightly against the window. Kurt put his hand up to the window, mimicking the gesture, lining up his fingertips with Blaine’s where the rested on the smooth, cool glass. They lingered, neither one really ready to say good-bye. Blaine was the first to pull his hand away, and Kurt took a step back, his fingers hovering in the air. Blaine pulled his Mustang out onto the main road and drove away, keeping his eyes glued to Kurt’s darkening silhouette in the rear view mirror. Kurt watched the Mustang go until he could no longer see the glow of Blaine's tail lights in the distance.

Kurt stood out on the asphalt and continued to watch the empty road a few minutes longer, willing Blaine to somehow turn around and come back, the touch of his fingers branded onto Kurt’s body, and the feel of his lips still sparking beneath Kurt's skin.

 

 


	9. Chapter 8

Blaine showed up at the shop every day after that. He would arrive in the morning in his mother’s Toyota right when the shop opened, bearing coffee and donuts for Kurt, Mark, and Burt. He would sit on the metal stool near Kurt's work space, strategically out of the way, and strike up a conversation, or read, or sometimes just watch quietly as Kurt fixed cars and interacted with customers. Blaine would leave only briefly in the afternoon to bring back lunch. Then he would help Kurt wipe down his tools and organize his cabinet so that he could take a break to eat.  
On occasion, he would lend a hand cleaning windshields or vacuuming carpets. If Blaine’s constant presence bothered Burt, the older man never mentioned it. As time passed, Kurt figured that his dad was just happy that his moody son had finally found a friend – a friend that might make him forget about how much he missed California for a while.

Kurt began to realize that this routine they had developed, this quiet friendship of simply being around each other and comfortable in one another's company, was becoming important to him. He relied on it. He looked forward to Blaine stopping by the shop. He felt lonely when he left to go get lunch. He kept an ear tuned for the sound of Blaine’s car pulling up outside. His heart raced when he heard Blaine’s footsteps on the cement floor. Blaine was occupying a spot in Kurt’s life that Kurt hadn’t realized was vacant – a spot he didn’t realize he wanted so desperately to fill.  
  
Blaine stayed well into the evenings. After Burt left for home, Blaine would leave to switch out the Corolla for his Mustang. Then after the shop closed, he rode in his Mustang beside Kurt's Eclipse when he left for the races. Since the summer races would soon come to an end, the Dalton Crew kept Kurt extra busy. With the exception of Jeff, they drove their cars way too hard and took advice from no one. Because no one listened to him, Kurt was up to his elbows every night diagnosing foreign rattling noises, replacing slipped belts, changing flat and sometimes shredded tires, and in the case of Sebastian, reconnecting NOS lines.  
  
It killed Blaine to watch the Dalton boys run Kurt ragged, Sebastian especially. The smug teen always found some way to get Kurt to linger at his GT-R longer than any other car. He invaded Kurt’s personal space, trying to cop a feel. The most infuriating part was that Sebastian seemed to know exactly when Blaine would be watching. Then Sebastian would make some lewd gesture behind Kurt's back. Once, he tried to run his hand over Kurt's ass while Kurt was bent over his engine. Blaine was prepared to storm over and handle the situation once and for all, but Kurt moved swiftly out of Sebastian's reach and Sebastian was left momentarily caressing thin air, scowling when Blaine broke out into a fit of condescending laughter.  
  
Blaine stayed with Kurt until Kurt decided to leave, and then he would meet up with Kurt's Eclipse and drive beside him home. He parked at the curb outside Kurt’s house and walked Kurt to his door. With a quiet good night, he would kiss Kurt's hand and leave for home.

Every night, Kurt watched Blaine drive away, not making a move to open his door and enter his house until Blaine’s crimson brake lights disappeared into the night.

* * *

 

The day that Kurt had been dreading since they moved to Ohio finally came – his father’s first appointment with his new cardiologist. Kurt hated it when his father had to change doctors. The sheer amount of red-tape and stupidity was astounding. Kurt did everything by the book, everything the patient advocates told him to do, down to the letter. He arranged to have his dad’s medical records, x-rays, and files transferred, assuming that they would be read and the vital information noted. When they showed up at the appointment, it was usually to discover that the new doctor hadn’t even cracked the spine on the folder. Then the doctors always wanted to start at the beginning for some reason, which devolved into a heated argument between Kurt and some stuck-up a-hole who felt that his expensive diploma meant he could treat Kurt like trash.

Kurt woke up an hour before his alarm, not that he slept all that well the night before, with the grumblings of past arguments repeating on a loop in his mind.

_I know that he took that before and it didn’t work, but we’re going to try it again. It has a good success rate with heart patients overall. Maybe it’ll work this time._

_But that medication almost killed him!_

_Well, it’s procedure to start treatment with that medication without documentation, so we have to regardless._

_But, I sent you documentation! You just didn’t bother to read it._

_I don’t appreciate your tone, young man. If you’re not happy with the care I provide, maybe you should take your father to another doctor._

_His insurance won’t cover any other doctor!_

_That’s not my concern. And by the way, your father’s insurance won’t cover (a, b, c, x, or y) treatment._

_But it’s been covering it for the last three months! What changed?_

_You’ll have to call your insurance provider for that information._

And so on and so on ad nauseam until Kurt couldn’t even think about eating breakfast and left for the shop with his stomach both grumbling for food and lurching over the thought of eating at the same time.

Kurt arrived at work before the shop opened to file some paperwork he had unintentionally lagged on. His dad’s appointment was scheduled for early that afternoon, and Kurt planned on getting caught up with the stacks of widowed receipts and orphaned invoices before then. He abhorred paperwork. It was probably his least favorite thing about helping to run the shop, and unfortunately the bulk of it fell on him. They still filed some of the receipts by hand, and his father’s hands shook so much that on bad days he couldn’t use the laptop let alone separate thin slips of paper and sign his name.

Kurt hummed while he worked, opening the bay doors regardless of the hour in hopes of airing out the work area. He didn’t know if this was a phenomenon of the muggy Ohio weather, but every morning the bay smelled like a combination of motor oil and dead wet rat.

Kurt took a deep breath and groaned.

This morning was no exception.

Traffic around the shop was usually light this early in the morning, so he was surprised when he heard a car approaching. He couldn’t imagine that it would be Blaine since he had looked pretty much knocked out the night before and Kurt would be seriously astonished if he saw him in an hour when the shop officially opened for business. Still, Kurt bounced a little on the balls of his feet, hoping to see Blaine's Mustang pull up. Instead, he saw the signature blue and red custom paint job of Sebastian's GT-R.  
  
_'Ugh,'_ Kurt thought, his entire body deflating from his hopeful spirit on out as he threw open the metal bay doors and secured the locks.

Sebastian parked beside Kurt’s Eclipse and Kurt bristled. As far as he was concerned, that spot was reserved for Blaine’s car (whichever one he chose to drive) and Blaine’s car alone.  
  
"Hello, gorgeous," Sebastian crooned as he stepped out of his car, completely unaware of his heinous mistake.  
  
"Hello, Sebastian," Kurt said, his voice clipped and impersonal. "Why are you here so early this morning? Hear another pinging noise? Or have you been disabling your NOS system again?"  
  
"Far from it." Sebastian smirked, shuffling up to the bay with his obnoxious swagger and followed Kurt inside. "I heard this is the place where admirers can come and watch you work, so I thought I would get here early and snag a good seat." Sebastian grabbed the metal stool in Kurt's work space - _Blaine's_ metal stool - and sat, looking at Kurt with a satisfied grin on his face.  
  
Kurt looked over Sebastian, his expression blank as he tried to hide his revulsion.  
  
"Yeah, well, my other admirers at least bring donuts."  
  
"I see." Sebastian watched as Kurt bustled around the bay, wiping down work spaces and laying out tools, turning on diagnostic instruments and other machinery that Sebastian couldn’t begin to identify. Of course, he didn’t have to know what they were or what they did.

That’s what he had Kurt for.

Kurt peeked inconspicuously over at his work station and saw Sebastian there, perched on the stool like a vulture waiting for his next meal.  
  
"Bas,” Kurt said with a deep, put-out sigh, “I have a ton of work to do in the office this morning, so if you don't mind..."  
  
"Not at all." Sebastian got up from the off-kilter stool, and Kurt was relieved to see him go…until Sebastian started to follow him further inside. Kurt stood his ground, putting up a hand to stop Sebastian before he went a step further. Sebastian took the gesture as an invitation to take Kurt's hand and trap it against his chest.  
  
"Actually," Sebastian said, "I wanted to invite you to a party the Dalton Crew is having tomorrow night. It's to celebrate the last summer race before the start of school. We tend to go all out." Sebastian frowned when Kurt looked less than impressed. “It’s kind of a big deal, sweetheart. Invitation only.”

"But I don't go to Dalton." Kurt tugged his hand to get away, feeling trapped, but Sebastian held it firm, rubbing a thumb over Kurt's knuckles, over all of Blaine’s kisses.  
  
Kurt felt no electricity, no sparks at Sebastian’s touch.  
  
"It's not for the school, just the crew," Sebastian clarified.  
  
"So, I should go because I'm a part of the Dalton Crew?" Kurt asked skeptically, continuing to try and pull away.  
  
"You could look at it that way." Sebastian lowered his voice. "But I was kind of hoping that you would go as my plus one."  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes but Sebastian seemed oblivious, staring off into space and considering something quietly.  
  
"But, you know,” Sebastian said, “that wouldn't be such a bad idea."  
  
Kurt’s simmering irritation made way only slightly for confusion.  
  
"What idea?"  
  
"You should attend Dalton Academy. And then the whole crew could be together.” Sebastian smiled at his own brilliance. “You could join the Warblers."  
  
Kurt laughed drily.  
  
"Yeah, right. My dad can't afford that. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here." Kurt managed to pull his hand free to wave emphatically around the garage.  
  
"You could apply for a scholarship,” Sebastian insisted, even though he curled his lip in disgust at the word ‘scholarship’, as if the idea sickened him. “Jeff is there on scholarship. With the money we pay you, I'm sure you can afford the rest of it yourself."  
  
"Nah," Kurt said, moving past Sebastian, abandoning his plans of working in the office in order to put some space between him and the other boy, "I've got other plans."  
  
"Plans that include public school?" Sebastian sneered derisively. "Who has those kinds of plans? Or is this about Anderson?" Sebastian followed Kurt, talking to his back. "You remember what I said, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I do," Kurt said, turning sharply, bordering on the brink of losing his temper. Sebastian didn't know when to quit. He didn’t know anything about Kurt and his feelings for Blaine...or Blaine's feelings for him. Blaine was proving himself day after day. He was compassionate and loyal in Kurt’s eyes. Yes, he pursued Kurt shamelessly, but he didn’t treat Kurt the way Sebastian did - like a prize or a trophy. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the boy. "If I asked him, what would Blaine say about you?"  
  
Sebastian's grin became impossibly wider, and the glint in his green eyes grew hard and cold. He sauntered smoothly up to Kurt, grabbing his arms firmly and capturing Kurt's gaze.  
  
"That I'm great between the sheets," Sebastian whispered. "Probably the best he’s ever had."  
  
Kurt froze, his entire body petrified. From head to toe he became solid stone, and some small part inside of his brain – the part that had recently started to recover from having his hopes and dreams crushed - wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. He couldn't bring himself to picture them together. Gorgeous, beautiful, romantic Blaine having sex with this conceded, boorish, arrogant...  
  
"Didn't expect that, did you, sweetheart?" Sebastian chuckled cruelly. Sebastian came up behind Kurt and put his hands on Kurt's shoulders, squeezing a little too hard. "Look, don't be so frigid. I'm not saying Anderson's a bad guy. He's fine for a good lay..."  
  
Sebastian swept in low to Kurt's ear and whispered, "That boy's got stamina for days." Sebastian turned to look at Kurt, satisfied with the pale and forlorn look on his face.  
  
"So, if you're looking for a good time, by all means tap that.” Sebastian patted Kurt on the back, and Kurt wanted to shrink away. “But those little heart eyes you make every time you look at him tells me you want something more…and more is me."  
  
Kurt's brain whirled like a carnival ride spinning out of control. Everything around him became a sickening grey blur. Words and sentences flew through his head: _'I'm not playing you'...'not the boyfriend kind'...'I really want to get to know you'...'I'm a gentleman'...’That I’m great between the sheets…probably the best he’s ever had’…_  
  
Kurt's rational brain clawed through the chaos, surging to the rescue. Whatever Blaine did before Kurt entered his life was in the past. Kurt needed to look forward to the future. If his future included love then he wanted that future to include Blaine, because though they have only known each other for a short time, Kurt was beginning to fall for him…fall for him hard.  
  
Sebastian tried to take Kurt's hand again but Kurt snatched it away. He clenched his teeth, his eyes burning, threatening to sear a hole through the floor. He tightened his hands into fists until his nails dug into his palms, and his whole body shook. Sebastian hovered close, waiting for a response to the bombshell he had just dropped, but Kurt refused to look at him.  
  
"Get out," Kurt growled, the sound of his voice heavy and sinister. Sebastian took a step back, the triumphant smile dropping completely from his face. This was not how he expected things to go. At the least he figured that slip of information would earn Sebastian a revenge fuck. Maybe missing out on that hot action would be worth it if it meant a permanent rift between Kurt and Blaine.  
  
Kurt's heart hurt; his entire body felt like it was sinking into the floor, burying beneath the cement. He didn't need this, not today. He didn't want Sebastian here to begin with. He didn't want to have this truth hanging over his head like an anvil at the end of a fraying rope, ready to fall without warning.  
  
"Fine." Sebastian stomped away, mumbling under his breath. He seemed to cover the distance to his car in three swift strides. He gunned the engine and peeled away angrily, screeching his tires on the asphalt.  
  
Kurt heard the squealing of the tires fade off into the distance. The quiet of the morning returned and there Kurt stood. Alone. With an image in his head. Not the image that originally kept slipping into his dreams, of him and Blaine together, bodies entwined, worshipping each other, mumbling sentiments of love against each other’s skin. This one was of Blaine and Sebastian. Those soft lips that had touched Kurt's skin and made him melt touching Sebastian instead - the hand that always brought Kurt’s hand to Blaine's perfect mouth running along Sebastian's body, fingertips grazing lightly over his chest, raising goose bumps, making him moan.  
  
The thought made him sick, his insides churning, flipping completely upside-down and inside-out, fueling the nausea that had already staked a claim there. Without realizing it, he stumbled over to a nearby trash can and shoved his face inside, unloading the contents of his stomach. He vomited everything he had eaten the night before, and when there was nothing left, he continued to retch painfully, his body taking over and wringing out every ounce of his strength. Sweat gathered on his forehead, hot tears fell down his cheeks with every heave, and his knees knocked so violently that Kurt thought he might lose his balance and fall. After several long agonizing minutes, Kurt registered the feeling of a firm but gentle hand rubbing up and down his back, a soft voice murmuring soothing words. A paper towel was pressed into his hand and Kurt pulled his hand in to wipe his mouth.  
  
"Kurt?” the voice spoke softly. “Baby? Are you alright?"  
  
Blaine. It was Blaine.

Blaine, who had been there every day for the past several days and who was there now, except Kurt didn't know what to think about him. He didn’t know if he _should_ think about him. He didn't know how he felt anymore. The indecision made him want to scream. He wanted to spin around and shake Blaine - hit him. He wanted to demand an explanation.

He wanted to hear that what Sebastian said was all a lie.

Oh, why couldn’t Blaine have shown up before Sebastian? Sebastian would have probably found a way to corner Kurt with this information later, but today…today he needed his wits about him, and now almost every single one of them had gone.  
  
When Kurt found the strength, he stood up straight, curling up from his spine and shifting his weight on his feet until he was confident he wouldn’t collapse. He knew he was a mess. He didn't need to see his reflection to know that his nose and eyes were swollen and red, his head a mass of stray hairs everywhere that were once a stylish coiffure, and his mouth twisted in a horrible grimace.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Kurt barked, his voice rough and raw from crying.  
  
Kurt expected Blaine to step back, but he didn't flinch. He carded his fingers through Kurt's messy hair in an effort to tame the usually perfectly styled locks.  
  
"You said you were coming in early to get ready before your father's appointment,” Blaine explained. “I didn't want to miss you. I thought you might need a friend."  
  
Blaine smiled his soft, genuine smile, and there he was. The Blaine that Kurt knew - thoughtful, sweet, caring Blaine.

The Blaine who treated Kurt like a gentleman.  
  
The Blaine he was starting to love.

Kurt sighed, pushing Sebastian and his horrible, hateful words from his mind. He was still confused, still at a loss to come to terms with his feelings, but he needed Blaine right now, so he did the only thing he could think of to do.  
  
He threw himself into Blaine's waiting arms and held him tight.

 

 


	10. Chapter 9

Blaine held a trembling Kurt in his arms in an attempt to calm him, massaging the muscles of his neck with firm fingers and shushing him gently.

“It’s alright, baby,” he whispered, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

Kurt didn’t start crying again, but he couldn’t stop his body from trembling.

Afraid that he might fall down, Blaine tried to get Kurt to sit on his stool but Kurt wouldn’t move. He wasn’t about to touch that stool again without scrubbing it with some strong disinfectant first.

Blaine let Kurt lean his body against him, supporting his weight so that they could melt together in their embrace.

“Why don’t you calm down and tell me what’s got you so upset?” Blaine asked.

It was right there – right on the tip of his tongue. He could have just told him what Sebastian had said and asked him if it was true. He should have, but when the words tried to come out, he couldn’t do it. He swallowed them down and let them sink in his stomach like a stone.

In the end, Kurt lied to Blaine.

He didn’t want to lie, but he did, and he hated himself for it.

The last thing he wanted was to be dishonest with Blaine; Blaine didn’t deserve it.

In reality, it was a white lie he told. There was some truth to it and that softened the blow to his conscience a bit.

Kurt stuttered and stammered like an idiot, and told Blaine that it was nervousness over his dad's appointment that had him retching in the garbage can.

Blaine never knew that Sebastian had come to visit Kurt at all.

Blaine nodded and smiled, listening patiently to words that only partially made sense, pecking kisses to Kurt’s cheek and hairline, and holding him tight.

Eventually Kurt quieted down with a long, cleansing sigh. His body stopped trembling. He even laughed at the ridiculous spectacle he was making, but Blaine put a hand up to Kurt’s lips to hush him and told him he looked beautiful. They retreated to the office and sat together behind Burt’s desk, hiding for a while from the outside world and any other surprise visitors who might happen by. Kurt sifted through the receipts and the invoices while Blaine told him what he could expect for the upcoming races, and things slowly shifted back to the way Kurt felt they should be.

***

Kurt had gone to every single one of his dad's doctor appointments. He even had a pocket-sized notebook that he brought with him to write down all the usual useful snippets of information: doctor's names, medications, therapies, websites, phone numbers, new appointments. The book had 180 pages when he bought it. As of his dad's heart attack last year, Kurt had filled 165 of them - every single line, every white space, even jotting notes in the margins, words crowding words until he was the only person who could make sense of them.

Kurt’s obsession with note taking started after his dad’s first cardiologist appointment. His father sat and nodded while the specialist talked, and Kurt, sitting dutifully by his father’s side, assumed that his dad was memorizing and cataloging all the information the doctor was throwing at him. After over an hour of discussion about dietary changes, exercise regimes, and new heart medications, they left – Kurt’s mind buzzing to recall even a third of the information he had heard. While father and son were in the parking garage heading for Kurt’s car, his father turned to him and asked, “What was that last thing he said?”

Why do perfectly intelligent parents become completely unreliable when they have to go to the doctor?

Kurt usually didn't have a problem accompanying his dad to these appointments, after the initial inevitable pissing contest was out of the way, of course. He held his dad's hand, asked all the right questions, got the doctor to disagree with his dad when he tried to convince everyone that bacon was a vegetable. Kurt was his father’s self-appointed guardian and he took his job seriously. But this time around, Kurt felt like an intruder. The doctor had breezed through, ordered blood work, and had gone, which, though obnoxiously short, was also a blessing. Ordering blood work meant moving forward, making progress, not starting at square one and putting his father’s health in any further risk.

It looked like there would be no pissing contest for Kurt Hummel today.

A few minutes after the doctor left a nurse came in, telling them that the doctor – Dr. Newman, Kurt thought he’d said - had requested that she take his dad's vitals. That's when the appointment went weird. Kurt sat in a stiff plastic chair, holding his notebook, pen poised at the ready, while his dad flirted with the nurse, Carole.

Watching him put the moves on this poor woman burned Kurt’s eyes and ears, and made his skin crawl.

He couldn’t watch. He kept looking left and right, praying that it would end.

Carole's sweet and bubbly personality helped Kurt relax. It was a nice change to all of the straight laced, stuck-in-the-mud nurses Kurt and his dad had encountered in the past. She had a genuine smile and she smelled like Clinique's 'Happy' - a retro scent that Kurt could get behind - instead of like rubbing alcohol. When she had entered the exam room, she made a point of shaking Kurt's hand and introducing herself to him personally. A lot of nurses usually ignored him.

"Are you attending McKinley in the fall?" she asked while she drew blood from his father's arm with practiced ease. "I have a boy at McKinley. His name is Finn. Have you met him yet?"

Kurt was amazed. She asked one question after the other, pelting him with information in rapid succession like bullets firing from a Gatling gun; she barely took a breath in between.

After she was done with Kurt, she started in on his dad. Kurt's head bounced back and forth between Carole and his dad as they talked.  When Carole tried to take Burt's blood pressure, he made a lame joke - a really lame joke – about making sure to give it back when she was done. Carole threw her head back and laughed like he was the featured comic on a Comedy Central special. Kurt's eyes became sore from rolling. When he wasn’t watching the verbal volley and rolling his eyes in response, he glanced periodically to the clock on the wall. Kurt wrote down information as she rattled it off - blood pressure 138/90, temperature 97.5, blood sugar 101. They talked about labetalol and insulin, and changes to his diet, and that's when his dad did it.

He popped the question.

He asked Carole out on a date.

Kurt dropped his pen.

Burt looked over at his son with a half-smile when he heard the writing instrument clatter to the floor.

"Kurt, why don't you head out?” he asked. “I've seen you look at that clock about nine times in the last two minutes."

Kurt bent over and picked up his pen, swallowing his guilt.

"No, that's okay." Kurt shut his pen into the spine of his tiny notebook. "Besides, how are you going to get back to the shop?"

"It's not that far. I’ll walk it. The exercise will be good for me." Burt looked to Carole for some affirmation that what he had just said was true.

"That's right." Carole smiled warmly at Kurt, then she turned to Burt. "I'm off in about ten minutes if you want to go for lunch. It’s Mexican day in the hospital cafeteria. They make some pretty decent veggie tacos. "

Burt's smile grew wider. Kurt’s mouth dropped. He would never have dreamed that someone could make Burt Hummel smile at the thought of veggie tacos.

"It's a date."

Kurt rolled his eyes again.

Carole and his dad continued to look at each other shyly.

That's when Kurt realized he had effectively disappeared.

"Okay." Kurt surrendered his notebook and pen to his dad, looking at him pointedly. "Write down everything the doctor says about your new medication.” Kurt poked the book sharply with his index finger. “I want that back."

"Sure thing, kiddo," his dad said, flipping casually through the pages, then closing the book and setting it down by his side on the examination table.

Kurt hugged his father and kissed him on the cheek, still not completely okay with leaving him. He stood and gave his father a significant look, asking him with his eyes if he was truly okay with Kurt going. His father waved him away with his hand.

“Go, Kurt,” Burt said. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Okay.” Kurt turned to Carole standing beside them. “It was nice to meet you.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Kurt,” she said, making a shooing motion of her own with her hand. “Now scoot. Your dad and I have tons to talk about.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kurt grumbled, but he couldn’t hide his smile.

For all of his discomfort at the idea of his father dating, Kurt had liked Carole immediately.

"And try to write clearly," Kurt called over his shoulder as he headed for the door. "Last time you took notes it looked like you wrote them in Sanskrit."

Carole chuckled and Burt ducked his head as he laughed.

"Go." Burt's command was authoritative, but his eyes were shining and happy.

"Alright, alright." Kurt let the door close completely and then tried to listen in, but he couldn't make anything out. He sighed, turned on his heel, and headed for the elevator.

Kurt hated hospitals for obvious reasons, but also because there was never just one elevator that went straight down to the lobby. He started on the seventh floor and rode down to the fourth. He got out, crossed a hallway, and took another elevator to the third floor. That's where the elevators disappeared. Kurt walked up and down the hallways, turning down every corridor, muttering angrily. They had gotten up there, hadn't they? How come he couldn't remember the path they had taken?

"Should have left a frickin' trail of bread crumbs," he mumbled as his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Kurt stopped beside a wall covered in the most despicable excuse for hospitality art he had ever seen, and fished his iPhone from his pocket.  
  
_(2:17 P.M.)_  
  
_From: Blaine_  
  
_How are things?_  
  
Kurt smiled.  
  
_(2:19 P.M.)_  
  
_From: Kurt_  
  
_Great, if I could actually find my way out of the hospital._  
  
_(2:22 P.M.)_  
  
_From: Blaine_  
  
_Meet me at the Lima Bean?_  
  
_(2:23 P.M.)_  
  
_From: Kurt_  
  
_Heading your way. If I'm not there in 30 minutes, send a search party..._  
  
_(2:25 P.M.)_  
  
_From: Blaine_  
  
_:)_

Kurt looked at the screen and frowned, difficult since he couldn’t stop smiling so the resulting expression probably made him look insane.

"Ugh, Blaine. Emoticons?" Kurt smirked as he shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed for the first stairwell he could find. "And I had so much respect for you."

***

Blaine was already sitting at a table with two coffee cups in front of him when Kurt arrived. Kurt took a moment to look at him through the coffee house window. Blaine wore his signature leather jacket, hair lightly gelled, eyes dark, chewing absently on his lower lip. Kurt sighed. He looked just as dreamy as ever, but there was something else going on behind those gorgeous hazel eyes. Blaine thrummed his fingers on the table erratically. He stared intensely at his cup, his brow pinched with concern, looking both nervous and lost in thought all at once. Kurt waited to see if Blaine would look up and notice him staring. Kurt planned on pulling a silly face and maybe making him laugh, but he didn’t feel Kurt’s eyes on him at all.

Kurt walked into the coffee shop and made a beeline for Blaine’s table, beyond curious as to what might be on the boy’s mind. He slipped quickly into the chair next to him and bumped Blaine’s shoulder with his own. Blaine’s head snapped up to look at him and he smiled when he saw Kurt, but as happy as he looked to see him, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes; it didn’t erase the lines of worry on his forehead.

"Hey, baby." Blaine passed Kurt one of the coffees on the table.

"Hey, yourself, handsome." Kurt took the cup with a nod of thanks. He lifted it to his lips, took a tentative sip and sighed. Non-fat mocha.

Blaine had remembered.

"I see you found your way out," Blaine teased.

Kurt nodded.

"Yeah, well, I ran into a Sherpa on the fourth floor of the north stairwell and he helped me find my way."

Blaine laughed, but he still seemed preoccupied. He twirled his coffee cup between his fingers, his brow furrowing contemplatively. Kurt cocked his head to the side and watched him.

"Is everything okay, Blaine?" Kurt took another slow sip, giving Blaine time to speak.

Blaine looked up into Kurt's questioning gaze, held it for a moment, and sighed.

"Look," Blaine started, stilling his cup and setting it aside. He folded his hands in front of him, eyes dropping from Kurt’s face to a spot on the table in front of him. "I don't know how to put this…I mean, we haven’t known each other very long and I know it’s not my place to say this…and there’s no subtle way to…fuck, I'm just going to come out and say it." Blaine sat up straighter in his seat, then looked up and locked eyes with Kurt.

Kurt was taken aback by Blaine’s cursing and his sudden change in tone. Here it was, he thought. The other shoe dropping. Whatever Blaine had to confess, Kurt hoped he would do it fast and get it over with. Any more of these surprises and he’d be seeing the cardiologist right alongside his dad.

Blaine took a deep breath and held it, then let it out slowly through his nose. Kurt scooted to the edge of his seat while he waited, taking a sip of his coffee to give himself something to do.

"I...I don't want you to work for Dalton anymore."

Kurt choked a little on his coffee and put his cup down. The words hung in the air as both boys stared at each other – Kurt waiting for Blaine to elaborate, and Blaine waiting for Kurt to respond.

"What?" Kurt said finally, clearing his throat.

"I know you need money," Blaine rushed into the tense pause. "I know going to New York is important to you, but I think that we..." Blaine glanced away, trying to choose his words carefully. "I think there has to be another way."

Kurt pondered the expression on Blaine's face. He couldn't decipher what Blaine might be thinking. He took another long sip as he stalled to come up with a reply.

"I'm not going to find another job that pays me as much as Wes and his guys do." Kurt watched as Blaine's shoulders slumped slightly and he closed his eyes.

"I don't..." Blaine never stumbled over his words - usually so confident and self-assured - and now it seemed as though he couldn’t put together a coherent sentence to save his life. "I don't like the way they treat you."

Kurt knew what Blaine was referring to. Sebastian never left Kurt's side, his hands usually trying to creep somewhere inappropriate, and he rarely took no for an answer. Dave lurked as Kurt worked, expression blank and unreadable, his eyes boring holes into Kurt's body. Even Wes had become extremely possessive of Kurt, holding onto him or physically moving him whenever he thought Blaine might come over to talk with him. There were also the jokes and the demeaning nicknames that were so pervasive they had started to travel around to the other crews until Kurt became the punchline of a joke. Kurt agreed that the only reason he put up with it was the money. If he had another option, he would definitely jump at it.

Blaine's eyes pleaded silently with Kurt.

Kurt sighed.

"Blaine...” Kurt knew what he was going to say, but he wasn’t looking forward to hurting Blaine’s feelings, “I can't leave. I don't have another choice."

"Yes, you do Kurt!" Blaine was emphatic. He reached across the table and took Kurt's hand in his, squeezing it gently, urging him to see reason. "You _do_ have a choice. You don't deserve this. It's not worth it. Nothing is worth that."

Kurt felt heat rising to his cheeks. He didn't want to be angry with Blaine. He thought Blaine understood about his dream. He thought that Blaine knew how it important it was to him.

"Do you have a dream for the rest of your life?" Kurt asked evenly, holding on to the last thread of his calm after his long morning. "Do you know what you're doing after you graduate? Where you’re going to college?"

Blaine nodded, keeping his eyes locked on their joined hands.

"Wouldn't you do anything to get that dream?" Kurt rubbed his thumb slowly over Blaine's knuckles, trying to be soothing for both of them. “To get out of Lima, Ohio, and live it?”

Blaine nodded and shook his head at odd intervals, at war with himself over how to help Kurt.

"There has to be another way," Blaine argued.

Kurt didn't quite understand the passion behind Blaine's reaction. It's not like they were boyfriends. Would Blaine even want that? Kurt didn't allow himself to linger on the prospect, no matter how much Kurt normally did think about it.

Blaine stayed quiet when Kurt didn't respond, and Kurt realized that silent, moody Blaine was a little unnerving. Kurt wanted sassy, playful, flirty Blaine back. He wanted those sinful, honey-gold eyes staring at him, making him squirm underneath the heat of their gaze.

"Look." Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand gently as he spoke. "There's only one last race before the start of school, and then I won't be hanging with them all that much."

Blaine brought Kurt's hand to his lips. Blaine's eyes fluttered shut as he kissed across Kurt's knuckles, slowly, one at a time. Kurt's heart swelled in his chest at the delicate but deliberate brush of his lips. The feeling of Blaine's lips on his skin derailed his thoughts. At that moment, he considered caving in and quitting. He honestly did.

He would have if Blaine asked him to be only his. He would have for the sweet promise of Blaine's kisses on more than just the back of his hand.


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of dark Wes, and Sebastian plays dirty...

"Bas, would you _please,_ for the love of all things holy _,_ stop messing with your NOS!?" Kurt grumbled from inside the boy's Nissan GT-R. "Unless you _want_ to set your hair on fire."

 _And you_ would _set your hair on fire_ , Kurt thought with a vengeful smirk. _With all that product you use, it would go up like a Roman candle._

"Well," Sebastian drawled, sliding up to Kurt and knocking their hips together, "it's the only way I can get you bent over my car, so I'm going to take advantage of it."

Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Well, whatever you did, you knocked the line completely loose," Kurt said, smoothly dismissing Sebastian's blatantly sexual remark. "I have to get you a new line before your next race."

Kurt stood up, raising his arms above his head and straightening his back until he felt it crack, sighing with relief at the release of tension in his spine. He heard Sebastian’s breath catch in his throat, and swallowed down hard to keep his loathing at bay. Kurt rubbed his sweaty hands down the pants of his overalls, feeling Sebastian’s eyes on him, following his every move. Kurt kept his face expressionless, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Sebastian’s leering made him feel so cheap, so dirty.

 _It’s almost over,_ Kurt chanted in his head. _It’s almost over. The races will be done, school will start, and most of this will be a distant memory._

Kurt smiled secretly to himself.

Time away from the Dalton Crew meant more time he could spend with Blaine.

***

Blaine's skin crawled as he watched Sebastian run a hand over the seam of Kurt's overalls. He couldn't see Kurt's face, but he noticed his body language – he saw Kurt stiffen and then squirm to move out of reach, but Sebastian wouldn't let up. He put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, which the boy deftly swatted away. Sebastian only shook his head and laughed, putting the hand back in place. Puck climbed out of his Corvette and walked over to Blaine, following Blaine's gaze when he saw his leader seething. Puck watched Sebastian pursue Kurt, reaching out a hand and threatening to pinch him on the ass. Puck patted Blaine's back sympathetically.

"That sucks, man." Puck squeezed Blaine's shoulder reassuringly. "Sebastian's an ass, plain and simple. But Hummel over there's a big boy. I'm sure he can take care of himself."

Kurt had only briefly met the McKinley Crew a few nights before, in between races. Blaine had managed to drag Kurt away from Hunter’s Silvia in a rare moment when Wes and Sebastian were both nowhere to be seen and introduced him around. Kurt was a little hinky about meeting more new people, but Blaine used the excuse that he thought it might be nice for Kurt to have a few McKinley friends before the start of school. Regardless of him being a potential Titan, the crew still saw him as a rival. Kurt smiled and nodded politely as introductions were made. Finn seemed to have already heard a lot about him. He shook his hand, and gave him a lopsided but genuine smile. The rest of the group was fairly lukewarm about him, especially Santana, who made it more than obvious that she wasn’t interested in meeting Blaine’s new ‘boy toy’ and dragged a strangely awestruck Brittany away. The last thing Kurt could hear from the bubbly blonde girl was some senseless muttering about unicorns.

Puck, however, had warmed to Kurt almost immediately. He struck up a brief conversation with the mechanic about AMA Motocross and plans for aftermarket installs for his ‘vette. Kurt listened intently, and then gave him some unsolicited advice in that arena. Puck had tried to convince Kurt to part with some Dalton trade secrets, but Kurt simply smiled and twisted his fingers in front of his mouth, indicating that his lips were sealed. Kurt might have aligned himself with the wrong crowd as far as Puck was concerned, but he was loyal, and Puck admired that about him. After that, his opinion was that Kurt was pretty badass.

He had no problem with his best friend and leader developing the hots for Dalton’s new mechanic.

Puck knew Blaine probably better than anyone. Blaine didn’t talk all too often about his feelings, but without having to say a word Puck knew how Blaine felt about Kurt, how fast he had fallen for him, and how hard. He saw it when Blaine passed on a race just to watch Kurt fix cars. He saw his heart break every time the crew treated Kurt like dirt.

Puck knew that wherever Kurt went, Blaine's heart went with him.

Blaine sighed, preparing to get his Mustang ready for the next race, until he caught Sebastian running a hand over Kurt's ass. Kurt broke free with a yelp, scolding Sebastian loudly and hurrying away, but Blaine had had enough. He broke from his crew and stormed over to the pair, prepared to knock Sebastian into next week.

"Why don't you get your damned hands off of him!?" Blaine growled, stepping boldly into the taller boy's face.

Sebastian looked down at Blaine with a wolfish grin, barely moved by his rage.  

"You sure do spend an awful lot of time worrying about things that don't belong to you," Sebastian spat back, confident in his own superiority.

The Dalton boys took notice and hurried over to join the melee. At the sound of their leader arguing, the McKinley Crew rushed over as well, and suddenly both crews converged around Blaine and Sebastian.

"Blaine…" Kurt stepped in front of Sebastian, his shining eyes grateful but his voice a soft warning, "everything's alright. I was done with his car anyway.”

From behind Kurt, Sebastian scoffed.

"I don’t think so, princess." Sebastian grabbed Kurt's hips and pulled the boy back against him. "You're done when I say you're done." Sebastian shoved Kurt roughly behind the shield of his body. Kurt tripped and would have fallen straight to the asphalt if not for Jeff, who rushed up quickly and caught Kurt in his arms.

"Are you okay?" Jeff whispered. He helped Kurt stand and set him back on his feet, walking him away from what promised to turn into a fist fight.

"Yeah," Kurt said, breathless with shock. He held Jeff's arms tightly, trying to regain his balance. He smiled, his cheeks red, thankful that Jeff had rescued him from an embarrassing tumble. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Yeah, Jeff. He's fine. You can totally let go now," Nick mumbled, one arm wrapped across his chest, looking around awkwardly to see if anyone noticed him grumbling.

Blaine pushed further into Sebastian's face, and with both hands planted on his chest, shoved him back full force. Sebastian skidded back a few steps then stopped.

"He's not a _thing_ , he’s a _person_ ," Blaine growled, “and he’s not _yours_.”

"Fun." Sebastian smirked, straightening his clothes and advancing back up toward Blaine. "He's not _yours_ either."

"He works for your crew, but you don't own him." Blaine's hands balled into fists and hung at his sides; the skin pulled so tight around his knuckles they turned white.

"Neither do you." Sebastian stalked Blaine, pushing him backwards toward his crew. "All this time you've been crushing on him hardcore, watching him all moony-eyed, how come you haven't asked him out? How come he’s not your boyfriend by now?" Blaine stopped dead in his tracks and his face immediately lost all its color. Sebastian came right up to Blaine's ear so that only he could hear. "At least we pay him to get felt up."

Blaine launched himself at Sebastian. Sebastian bobbed backward quickly, barely missing a fist impacting with his nose. His eyes went wide, but he recovered quickly. He rushed at Blaine, grabbing the sleeves of his leather jacket and throwing him to the ground. Blaine grabbed Sebastian's arms as he fell and managed to take the boy down with him. Puck and Finn stepped up out of the crowd and grabbed Blaine's arms, lifting him off the ground and away from Sebastian. Sebastian lay sprawled on his back, his chest heaving as he breathed. David stepped up to him, offering Sebastian a hand, but Sebastian swatted the boy away angrily.

A crowd of other crews and onlookers gathered, and Wes, otherwise occupied with some girls from a local high school when the fight started, made his way through them. People cleared a path for him as he stepped up to the scene.

"Come on, boys," Wes said diplomatically, though his condescending smirk was more amused by the fight than concerned. He walked up to Sebastian and gave him a hand up, not giving him the choice to refuse. Sebastian wouldn’t dare swat Wes away. "Let's break this up now. I think we can all agree that we don't want this to turn ugly."

"Too late," Puck murmured from behind Blaine. A few people in the crowd heard his remark and chuckled, whispering behind their hands and shooting mocking looks in Wes's direction.

Wes heard the whispers, saw the stares, and his amicable façade faded. He could see the group gathered behind the McKinley Crew, the lemmings that supported Blaine and his amateur band of riffraff wannabe-drivers, and he scowled. It seemed that ever since Blaine had returned from his 'sabbatical', he had become top dog again. That pissed Wes off to no end. The bastard barely even raced, but that didn’t seem to matter. The other crews idolized him, girls swooned over him. Everybody loved him. That's what Wes despised most about Blaine. It didn't matter if Blaine left for 6 months or 60 months. It seemed like the place of honor always sat empty, waiting for him, even if he didn't really deserve it.

But now Wes saw a chance to turn the tide in his favor, because it seemed Wes had something that Blaine really wanted.

 _Kurt_.

Blaine wanted Kurt.

The great Blaine Anderson finally had an Achilles heel.

Wes hadn't really been all that excited about hiring Kurt on as a mechanic. Sure, Kurt worked hard, and he knew more about custom tuning and NOS injection systems than anyone Wes had ever met, but Kurt didn't fit the overall image Wes wanted for his crew. But seeing the daggers in Blaine's eyes, Wes realized that having Kurt around was definitely money well spent, especially if it threw Blaine off his game. Besides, even though Wes wasn't even remotely bi-curious, he could appreciate a thing of beauty, and Kurt was definitely beautiful.

Wes wanted to be done with this – done with Blaine and his annoying crew of misfits.

"Let's say we finish this once and for all?" Wes walked in a circle as he talked so that everyone gathered around could hear.

"What did you have in mind?" Blaine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"How about a race?" Wes offered. Wes smiled at his own cleverness. He was confident that his Toyota Supra could spank Blaine's Mustang any day of the week. "Are you willing to wager your pretty little Mustang?"

"That depends," Blaine said skeptically, "what do I get if I win?"

"Anything you like." Wes opened his arms wide and gestured around him. "Anything you see is up for grabs."

Blaine barely gave his response a second thought.

"Good," Blaine said, his eyes dark, his smile menacing. "Then I want him."

All eyes turned, following Blaine's gaze, landing on Kurt, who looked back at the crowd around him. His mouth hung open and he tried to object, but he was at a complete loss for words.

"No," Sebastian sputtered, stepping out in front of Kurt, trying to block Blaine's view. "No, that's not what Wes meant."

"You can't do that," Kurt agreed, pushing Sebastian bodily out of the way. "He meant a car. Any _car_ , right Wes?” Kurt glanced toward Wes for help, but Wes didn’t offer any. “He had to mean a car,” Kurt argued. “You…you can’t bet a _person_!"

"But he didn't say that," Blaine said smugly before Wes could respond, shoving aside the hand that squeezed at his heart when he heard the despair in Kurt’s voice. "He said anything I see is up for grabs. And I definitely see you." Blaine’s smile of conceit turned Kurt’s insides to ice. He shook his head slowly, eyes wide with shock. He turned back to face Wes, expression imploring the Dalton leader to reconsider. When Wes still didn’t say a word, Kurt felt his heart race and his throat tighten.

"You can't do that!" Kurt said, almost begging. "You can't wager me!"

Wes's eyes narrowed to slits, calculating the odds. If he lost Kurt, he could always get another mechanic... but that Mustang. Blaine’s black GT - it was like his signature. If Wes drove that Mustang, everyone would know that Wes had won; that he had beaten the legendary Blaine Anderson. That _Wes_ was the better man.

Kurt looked from Wes to Blaine – each staring the other down like apex predators.

Two more people dictating the direction of his life without his permission.

Wes’s devilish grin burned bright on his face, and Kurt started to lose hope.

"I want that Mustang," he growled under his breath.

Kurt's mouth dropped further. It was all too surreal for him to get a grasp of.

Wes stepped past Kurt and right up to Blaine, looking at the rival leader with a nearly evil grin.

"Done," Wes announced dramatically. "Your super charged Mustang for our...” Wes gestured to a mortified Kurt, “pretty mechanic..."

Wes's words sent up a general murmur of laughter around the group. Kurt blushed to his roots, his eyes boring holes into Blaine’s skull, but Blaine, hyped up on adrenaline and righteous indignation, didn't seem to notice.

"So, I assume I'm racing against your little toy Supra?" Blaine jeered.

"No," Sebastian said, weeding his way back into the dispute. "No, you'll be racing my GT-R." Wes shot Sebastian a look, but it lasted only a second before his self-assured smile returned. Wes might not have liked Sebastian interfering, but the GT-R was definitely a game changer. Maybe Wes wouldn’t beat Blaine personally, but it didn’t matter. Sebastian was a member of Wes’s crew, so Sebastian’s win was Wes’s win. The GT-R in a street race against a Mustang was pretty much a sure thing. Sebastian turned to look at Kurt, shooting him a wink and a wide, toothy grin.

"Now, you just sit tight and look pretty, Kurt, because you're not going anywhere."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Blaine snarled. Sebastian turned back. Staring down into Blaine's eyes, Sebastian grinned.

"Oh, but I just did." Sebastian snaked an arm around Blaine's neck and wrenched him around to look back where Kurt sat. Blaine could tell that Kurt was trying with every last bit of strength to keep himself calm – back tight and rigid, hands clasped around his knee, eyes shut in angry concentration. He felt for Kurt – he really did. Blaine only wanted what was best for Kurt and that’s why he had to win this.

He just had to.

He had to get Kurt out of the hands of Wes and Sebastian for good.

"I know you've got some little crush on my boy Hummel, Blaine," Sebastian taunted, toying with him. "But, I've got this on lock. And I have to admit, I thought fucking him in the front seat of my car was going to be hot, but it's going to be so much hotter when I have him bent over the hood of your pretty little Mustang."

Blaine's eyes almost glowed red when he spun out from beneath Sebastian’s arm and shoved him hard. Sebastian stumbled backwards, tripping over his own feet, and struggled briefly to maintain his balance. The crowd around them roared, hungry for another fight, and they almost got it until Puck stepped in between them. Puck's hands held Blaine's shoulders securely. He caught Blaine’s gaze, not easy to do when his eyes darted up to meet Sebastian’s and then craned beyond to catch sight of Kurt, but eventually Blaine’s eyes drifted to meet Puck’s, and he let them anchor him in place. Puck nodded, quietly asking his leader if he was okay, and Blaine nodded back.

"Save it for the race, preppy," Puck called over his shoulder, not even turning to see what Sebastian would do in retaliation. Sebastian watched the thug with the Mohawk lead his pathetic leader away. He spit after them in disgust. Then he turned, walking swiftly to his car, ready to squash this shit. Kurt opened his eyes as the fight died down and saw Sebastian blow a kiss his way.

Kurt felt the cold fingers of foreboding crowd around him, and he closed his eyes again.

 


	12. Chapter 11

Kurt kept his eyes closed. He blocked out everything going on around him and concentrated on his breathing – taking a breath slowly in through his nose and then letting it go again out his mouth.

Breathe in…breathe out…breathe in…breathe out…

He thought seriously about leaving. There was nothing really keeping him there anyway. Any feeling of obligation or loyalty that Kurt had toward the Dalton Crew evaporated the second Wes agreed to this asinine bet. What would it matter if he got into his Eclipse and drove away? Apparently no one considered his feelings in any of this. In fact, he had been demoted from person to object, and then from object to prize. He sort of expected it from Sebastian and Wes. Their moral compasses didn’t seem to point anywhere near north. They both lost their tempers way too easy and were always rising to a ridiculous challenge of some sort, ceaselessly needing to prove they were the best…but from Blaine?

That Blaine went along with all of this, more than anything, made Kurt want to slink into some dark corner and die.

Kurt heard the GT-R and the Mustang as their engines roared to life and they approached the designated starting line. He heard the screams and catcalls of the various fans and onlookers gathered around to watch what was already being hailed as 'the race of the century'. Kurt smirked. He was undoubtedly surrounded by total idiots. As for how he was behaving personally, Kurt couldn't figure out what upset him more - the fact that he was being treated like an object, or that he couldn’t find a way to do anything to put a stop to it.

What Kurt had said to Blaine at the Lima Bean was true. Raising the money to go to New York was more than a ‘want’. He _needed_ that money - he _needed_ to go to New York and despite everything else, working for the Dalton Crew was the only way he could see to get that money and make his dream a reality. But Kurt was getting tired of Sebastian's advances, and the constant jokes and name calling. He had already been called Porcelain, Princess, and a whole slew of other demeaning nicknames that were getting harder and harder to swallow. Sebastian's hand on his ass had almost been the last straw for Kurt. He wanted to lash out, to slam Sebastian’s head with the hood of his car, to say, “Fuck you!” and quit. He honestly didn't know what he would have done if Blaine hadn't stormed over.

The growl of the engines and the squealing of tires signaled the start of the race. Both cars shot away down the street, and the overwhelming din made Kurt winced. All of his money literally rode on Sebastian’s GT-R, but his heart – his heart wanted to bet on Blaine.

_Blaine._

Kurt wanted to be angry at Blaine. He had every right to be furious with him over this. He thought Blaine was different from the rest of these overly-hormonal greasers and their little boy race cars - their minds only focused as far as their next fuck and their next race.

He had also hoped that Blaine was a better friend than the ones he’d known – the ones who had forgotten all about him in nearly no time flat.

But Kurt also recognized that he himself hadn’t been all that great a friend. He had asked Blaine if he had a dream solely to prove a point, and when he said yes, Kurt never bothered to ask him what that dream was. In the end, Blaine was racing here tonight, putting up his own car, to defend Kurt's honor. If Blaine wasn’t being a good friend then what kind of friend did that make Kurt?

Kurt felt torn. He didn’t know exactly who to root for in this scenario. One of two things was going to happen at the end of this race - Kurt would be out of a job and his dream would be washed away yet again, or Blaine would lose his precious car. Kurt's heart sank. He felt guilty, but he had to push all that aside and be selfish. He had to remember that more than anything he needed this job. He needed the money.

Kurt took that up as his new mantra and repeated it over and over.

_I need this job…I need the money…I need this job…I need the money…_

He would stick to his guns. His dreams were more valuable than any silly Mustang. It was logical, but it was a cold comfort for him.

Blaine and Bas had decided on a one lap race. Kurt knew the route like the back of his hand by now – a single circuit around the industrial park, roughly ten miles total, and then a sprint down the straight away on the return, which was when most every driver hit their NOS and flew through the finish line. It didn’t sound too difficult but in reality it was a race won through skill, timing, and sometimes incredible dumb luck.

Kurt knew that Blaine had the skill and the timing – it was the dumb luck that he hoped he didn’t have.

Kurt took another deep, cleansing breath, willing himself not to care too much about the outcome. He left it in the hands of the universe. Whatever happened would happen. He had no part in it.

He just hoped that the universe wanted him to keep his job.

 _'There's no way Blaine can win,'_ Kurt assured himself as he heard both cars approach the home stretch, tires screaming against the asphalt on the final turn before the straight away. Sure Kurt had helped Blaine with his NOS, but Sebastian's car was the hottest thing on the road right now, if he could learn to keep his hands off his... _SHIT!_

Kurt fumbled in his pockets for his phone, cursing. He pulled his cell phone out but the screen was dark – the battery had died without him knowing. Kurt ran up to Wes, flailing his arms like a madman.

"Call Sebastian! Call him! Call him now! Somebody call him!" Kurt yelled.

Wes shifted his eyes slightly to look at Kurt, irritated at having his attention called away from his flawless victory.

"What...” Wes muttered, acknowledging Kurt with a single grunt that barely classified as a word, “why?"

"Because Bas fucked with his NOS!” Kurt explained rapidly. “I was going to fix his line tomorrow. If he hits that switch..."

Wes’s eyes went wide. He suddenly understood, but it was too late. The growl of Blaine's Mustang as it sped down the straight away drowned out everything else. Meanwhile, Sebastian's Nissan sputtered forward and then dragged to the curb, stopping with a sickening metallic clank. Sebastian threw open the door and Kurt saw him struggle with the seatbelt. The belt finally popped open and Sebastian stumbled out. He bent over at the waist, hands clutching his knees for support. He heaved and coughed, fighting to suck in fresh air.

Blaine's Mustang slowed down as he approached the finish line. He wrenched the steering wheel and drifted the car to a stop for effect, leaving an impressive trail of dust in his wake.

Blaine climbed out of his car through his open window, beaming as a throng of cheering fans ran up to congratulate him. Many people laughed and patted him on the back, or fought to show him cell phone video footage of Sebastian's GT-R crapping out by the side of the road.

"Totally!" Blaine gave someone a thumbs-up. "That’s great! Upload that one for sure!"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the boy’s arrogance and glanced over to a stunned and fuming Wes.

"You did it, man!" Puck embraced his friend tightly, hopping up and down, nearly lifting Blaine into the air. "You beat the unbeatable!"

"Ah, that GT-R isn't the beast Sebastian claims it is." Blaine spoke to his friend, but his hazel eyes searched the crowd for Kurt. Over bouncing heads and smiling faces Blaine found him, looking at Wes, his face creased with frustration and worry. Kurt's shoulders slumped as he walked over to where the rival crew leader stood. Wes glared, radiating pure hatred in Blaine's general direction.

Kurt didn't know what to say. Should he beg Wes not to fire him? Ask for a rematch? Technically, Sebastian's car malfunctioned. There had to be some sort of loophole. Even if this was illegal street racing, there was an unwritten code of ethics amongst drivers. There had to be.

Before Kurt could make the suggestion, Wes stomped over in his direction. Eyes fixed ahead and without sparing Kurt a glance, he grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the crowd of sycophants still praising what Wes thought was Blaine's less than incredible win. Blaine's eyes went wide at the grimace of pain on Kurt's face as Wes came to an abrupt halt in front of them. The cheering crowd went silent when Wes’s hard eyes swept the faces around him, as if any second he might unleash his fury on some unsuspecting victim. With a look of disgust, Wes shoved Kurt forward. This time Jeff wasn’t quick enough to save him and Kurt hit the ground hard on this hands and knees.

"Here, Blaine," Wes spat. "Here’s your mechanic. You wanted him so bad. He's yours."

Wes turned on his heel and marched away.

Blaine's eyes softened when Kurt hit the ground - his heart shattering at the pained, “Oomph!” that escaped his mouth when he came in contact with the asphalt. Blaine pushed past the crowd in an effort to get to Kurt and help him up, but the boy was already on his feet, chasing after Wes.

"David!" Wes screamed as he tromped back to his own car. "Go collect Sebastian!"

David hurried off in his Integra as Kurt caught up with Wes.

"B-but, Wes!" Kurt yelled, frantically chasing after him. "We had a deal!"

"Yeah?" Wes turned on Kurt, furious. "We did! You were supposed to keep the cars in racing order. If you had done your job then Sebastian would have won, and I would be driving home in Blaine's Mustang! But because of your incompetence, Blaine won! You're his now!"

Kurt felt as if he had been slapped in the face. His hands stung and his knees ached, but none of that registered with him. He barely registered the fact that a whole crowd of people had seen him wagered away, but still his cheeks glowed with anger and humiliation.

Kurt turned and began to walk slowly, vaguely aware that Blaine stood between him and his Eclipse...his one escape.

Kurt walked up to Blaine, arms wrapped around his chest, eyes downcast. The race was over. Blaine had won, and Kurt’s dream was over.

The thrill of winning died down, bleeding away and leaving Blaine empty inside. Seeing Kurt look so defeated, Blaine realized that Sebastian hadn’t lost. Wes hadn’t lost. Dalton hadn’t lost.

Kurt was the one who had truly lost.

Blaine had never felt so ashamed in his life.

But everything was going to be alright now, Blaine thought. Kurt would be with him and his crew.

Kurt would be with him.

Kurt stepped up to Blaine and looked him over from head to toe with a palpable glare of disgust - his beautiful, pale face a twisted scowl, brimming with outrage on the brink of being unleashed. Kurt's cold, icy eyes drilled into Blaine’s as Kurt drew back his hand and slapped him hard.

Blaine’s head snapped to the side, a fiery red hand print stamped on his cheek.

"Fuck you, Blaine Anderson!" Kurt yelled. "Just... fuck you! You fucked everything up!" Kurt pushed past a startled Blaine and stalked over to his Mitsubishi.

"Wait! WAIT!" Blaine called after him, hurrying to stop him. "You didn't lose here! I promise! You'll work for us. We can pay you."

Kurt laughed bitterly as he spun back around, wiping tears from his eyes.

"There's no way you can pay me what Wes and his crew were paying me. You have six drivers, tops. He has fifteen! And I wasn't just going to work on their cars. He was going to hook me up - parents' cars, teachers' cars, the whole motherfucking Dalton alumni association! The amount of money I was going to make was more than worth getting laughed at, or-or having my ass squeezed once in a while..."

Kurt broke. He didn't even recognize his own voice or what he was saying. Was he really implying that it was worth getting bullied and sexually assaulted for money? Who was he right now? What was wrong with his life?

Kurt was desperate. He was frustrated and upset and desperate; he was spiraling so violently out of control that he felt his bones vibrating. He thought if he kept this up, he might shatter. His footsteps stuttered between walking back to slap Blaine in the face again, or hauling ass to his car and driving away. Midway he bent down, picked up a handful of loose gravel, and threw it in Blaine's face. Blaine raised an arm to block the flying debris, but one sharp rock caught him on the cheek, leaving a long scratch that started to bleed.

"They were my only chance of getting out of this buttfuck town!" Kurt screamed at full voice. "And now, it's gone! It's all gone, and I'm going to be stuck here. Just another Lima Loser. Just like you guys. Thank you so fucking much!"

"Oh, _hell_ to the no!” an indignant voice rose from the crowd. “He did not just say..."

"Shhh!"

"Yeah! Shut up, Tana!"

Kurt heard the McKinley Crew arguing behind him. They seemed to be split – some of them thought he had a right to be mad, some of them thought he was an ungrateful bitch. Kurt didn't know who exactly stood where in the argument and he didn’t care. He wasn’t one of them and he refused to ever be. Kurt climbed into his car and slammed the door. His hands shook as he pulled his keys out of his pocket. He fumbled them and they fell jingling to the foot well. He leaned over, groping in the dark beneath his feet, nails scraping along the rough carpet, tears falling freely in the safety and solitude of his car. Eventually he gave up, rested his head on his gear shift, and bawled.

 _'Close,'_ Kurt thought, shaking his head, his whole body crushed under the weight of his permanent reality. He had been so close. Good luck getting what Wes owed him. That alone was a couple of thou down the drain. Sure, he didn't like to be pawed. He didn't like the jokes. He didn't like Sebastian's advances, or the quiet simmer in Karofsky's eyes that chilled him to the core. He didn’t like waiting for the day Monster snapped and showed his true colors. But he wouldn't have had to put up with it for too much longer. At the end of the year, he would have had all the money he needed and then he would have been gone. Lima, Ohio would be a speck in his rear view mirror on his way to New York. Now, as he sat in his car, too pathetic to even leave, he watched all those dreams crumble.

Kurt heard the soft click of his door open, but he didn’t look up. Sure fingers reached between Kurt's feet and grabbed his key ring, setting it gingerly on his leg. Kurt knew who it was and he didn't want to face him. He slowly moved his hand and settled his fingertips on the key ring, closing his fingers around it, relaxing with its comforting weight in his grasp.

"For what it's worth," a soothing voice said, "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I'm really sorry."

Blaine stood up and put a hand on Kurt's shoulder, squeezing gently, hoping that Kurt would turn and look at him, chew him out some more, anything. When Kurt didn’t move, Blaine carefully shut the door. Kurt waited for a moment before he sat up, not bothering to wipe his eyes. He put the key into the ignition, ignoring the figure standing stoically to his left. He turned the key, started the engine, and drove away.

 


	13. Chapter 12

School started the following day.

Kurt’s day would normally begin with opening the shop and working for an hour or two before going to McKinley around nine or ten o’clock for his first class. On this day, however, he had to go to McKinley in the early morning to pick up his schedule and textbooks. Mark agreed, with much grumbling and grousing, to open the shop in Kurt`s place. Kurt's dad had gotten home late the night before from a date with Carole, and seeing as business in the morning didn’t really pick up until after ten a.m. anyway, he decided to let his dad sleep in.

Mark would most likely bitch about it later, but, oh well.

Kurt sifted through the contents of his wardrobe, glad to finally get the chance to wear something more fashionable then his work overalls. He had begun to feel like he was living in them.

Thank goodness he had nine pair.

After laying out several outfits on his bed, complete with shoes and accessories, he started the task of trying each ensemble on. It was a lengthy process which consisted of holding individual pieces up to his body and seeing how each combination looked in both natural and artificial light. After going through the finalists one last time, he made his selection, deciding to kill it in indigo skinny jeans, a fitted button down shirt, and a Marc Jacobs scarf draped over the back of his neck with the ends tucked into his favorite midnight black peacoat. If he was going to spend the day ignoring Blaine Anderson and his motley crew, he was going to do it in an outfit that kicked some serious ass.

He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, touching up his hair, taming stragglers here and there. Then he stood back to get the full effect. He needed to see exactly what he would be saying with this first impression.

_'Hello. My name is Kurt Hummel. I am a rising star and I am so much better than this.’_

Kurt smiled.

_Perfect._

As luck would have it, the first person Kurt saw when he walked through the double-doors was Blaine Anderson, surrounded on all sides by his crew, walking down the hallway, headed right for him. They walked four across down the narrow hall. Students and some teachers actually moved aside to let them through. By the expressions on the faces of the crew’s many admirers and by how eager everyone was to make way for them as they passed, it was easy to tell that this group essentially ruled the school. Kurt groaned beneath his breath. He refused to be impressed.

Kurt was a California native. Compared to California; Lima, Ohio was small time, and no one could convince Kurt any different.

That included Blaine Anderson.

Among the awe struck student body, Kurt noticed many faces that had been in the business park the night before – faces that had seen Kurt get wagered away. They probably figured that he _belonged_ to Blaine now. Great. More people who thought of him as an object and not a person. Well, that was not the case last night, and that was definitely not the case now. Kurt was willing to go to great lengths to stay as far away from Blaine and his crew as possible.

Kurt saw Blaine`s eyes stop on him, open wide, and travel down his body with a look of appreciation on his smiling face. Kurt may not want anything to do with Blaine, but he still preened silently, especially when Blaine`s eyes reached Kurt’s swaying hips and his jaw dropped. Kurt refused to make eye contact, weaving quickly away when Blaine reached out a hand to stop him.

"Yo, Hummel!" Puck raised his hand in a wave, but Kurt pointedly ignored him as well. Puck shrugged it off. It was kind of a cold move, but Puck didn’t hold it against him. He knew Kurt had other things going on.

Kurt continued down the hallway, searching for the main office, when he saw the group of bruiser jocks in red jackets coming his way...otherwise known as his ‘welcoming committee’.

***

Blaine had hoped he could catch Kurt in the hall before school. It was Kurt’s first day, so he’d most likely be lost. Blaine could take the opportunity to help him out and hopefully mend fences at the same time. Blaine needed to talk to him; he needed everything to be ok. He couldn't erase the sound of Kurt crying from his mind. It haunted him all night long. When he saw Kurt walking down the hallway - smooth, confident, sexy as hell - Blaine felt relieved. He was sure everything would be alright from here on out, and that they could simply fall back into their easy friendship (a friendship with the possible promise of more) without any other bumps in their way.

That was pretty difficult, though, when Kurt wouldn't look at him – when he wouldn't even acknowledge that Blaine existed. Blaine reached out to him, longing to touch him, to hold him, but Kurt moved out of reach. He sashayed down the crowded hallway, working his hips in a way that drove Blaine crazy. Kurt probably knew it did, too. On top of that, he was walking headlong toward a pack of jocks, their hulking leader Azimio holding a Slushie in his hand.

Slushie facials were a special form of bullying, exclusive, it seemed, to McKinley High School. It was a running joke in their general vicinity of Ohio. Everybody knew about it but no one did a thing to stop it. It seemed that Slushies weren’t on the list of things perceived by the district to be a weapon, so there was nothing the administrators would do. Even though the bullying had lessened overall throughout the years, the new kids could usually expect one Slushie to face at the beginning of the fall semester.

Blaine pictured it all in slow motion – the ice cold liquid jettisoning into Kurt’s face, dripping down his cheeks and his neck, clumping in his hair, ruining his clothes. Blaine turned to race after him, to catch him in time and pull him away, or intercept it if he had to. Either way, he was determined that Kurt would not be Slushied. If he stood up for Kurt, Azimio would know that Kurt wasn't just any random new student, but that he was part of Blaine's crew. Everyone knew that Blaine’s crew was untouchable at McKinley. Then Kurt would be safe.

Blaine may have failed Kurt once, but he wouldn’t fail him again.

But Santana grabbed Blaine’s arm and yanked it hard, sending him flying backward.

"Let me go, Satan!" Blaine growled as she dug her nails into the leather arm of his jacket, holding on tight.

"Let him get a Slushie to the face," Santana said. "Serves him right for being a loser!" she yelled louder so that Kurt would be sure to hear. Blaine pulled his arm free but he was too late. He saw Azimio grinning like a fiend, the rest of the pack snickering in anticipation, raising the Slushie, preparing for the toss...

***

Kurt had an eye trained on the bastards in the red jackets lumbering down the hallway. As soon as Kurt saw the cup, he reacted. Without even turning his head or averting his gaze from the path ahead of him, he flicked out an arm, smacking the bottom of the cup and overturning its contents in the opposite direction, splashing the jock square in the face. The students in the hall, who had all stopped to watch the new kid get iced, exploded with laughter.

Santana smirked, mildly disappointed but genuinely impressed.

"Or, there's that." Santana shrugged, took Brittany's hand, and walked off in the opposite direction.

Puck put his hands on Blaine's shoulders and squeezed lightly.

"See," Puck said, "Hummel's a big boy. You don't have to run to his rescue." Puck patted Blaine on the back as he walked passed, followed by Sam and Finn, who repeated the pat-on-the-back gesture as they headed to class. Blaine watched Kurt until he turned the corner and walked out of sight.

"But what if I _want_ to run to his rescue?" Blaine muttered glumly, followed by a heavy sigh.

***

Blaine discovered he only had one class with Kurt, since Kurt took mostly AP classes and had no first period class, and that was AP Literature. Blaine tried to sit in the seat next to Kurt, but every time Blaine sat down, Kurt would get up and move. Sit, move, sit, move – they continued the dance until their teacher, Mr. Kingsley, intervened.

"Give it up, Anderson. It's obvious Hummel doesn't want to sit next to you. Go find another seat and take it."

The whole class tittered and laughed – someone even balled up a piece of paper and launched it at Blaine’s head, but Blaine didn’t have time to be annoyed. He had to find a way to get through to Kurt.

By the time the school day came to a close, Blaine had struck out a few more times in his attempt to get a word with Kurt. Blaine became desperate to talk to him. He thought he could catch Kurt at lunch, but when the bell rang, Blaine couldn't find him anywhere. Blaine thought for sure that Kurt would join Glee Club, considering he had been attending Pace and he admitted that he sang. Blaine set up the chairs and made sure the only available one was right beside him. After the final bell, he saw Kurt peek in the window and was sure he would come in. Kurt scanned the room through the square pane of glass in the door, taking in all the members of the McKinley Crew, plus a few other students. His eyes fell on Blaine staring back at him, waiting expectantly with his hand resting on the only empty chair. Kurt sighed deeply, then turned and walked away. Seeing the expression on Kurt's face made Blaine realize that Kurt probably would have joined Glee Club - probably would have enjoyed it, too - if not for Blaine and his stupid bet. Blaine had an urge to chase after him but Mr. Schuester, the choir director, started the class. Since the group had to prepare for Sectionals and Blaine was their lead soloist, he had to stay.

Blaine stopped by the garage after school, braving Burt’s wrath by showing up in his Mustang, but as soon as Kurt saw Blaine pull up, he ducked into the office. Blaine watched Kurt leave, knowing he wasn’t going to turn around and come back out. Blaine bowed his head and drove away, Burt's eyes following him as he left.

Burt trailed after his son and found him sorting through the file cabinet, pulling out random files, rummaging through their contents, and then shoving them back into the drawers. Burt didn’t have a clue what his son could possibly be looking for.

"Do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Burt asked.

Kurt didn't stop his busy work and he didn’t look up to meet his father's eyes.

"I don't know what you mean," he replied, his voice clipped, but his father could still hear heavy emotion behind it.

Kurt closed the drawer he was looking in and brushed passed his father.

"I mean,” Burt continued, not letting his son get away just yet, “you spent almost every minute with that boy since we moved here, and now you run away when you see him coming." Burt walked much slower than Kurt. He limped a little, favoring his right leg - a side effect of a procedure he had done months ago. He only caught up to his son when Kurt stopped to fill the wiper fluid on an old Bel Air.

Burt watched his son, bent over the car, focused on his work. The job was menial; it in no way required the amount of attention Kurt was giving it, but Burt knew Kurt needed the work to distract him from something else. That was obvious.

That _something_ had to do with the boy in the black Mustang – Blaine. Burt was sure of it.

"Kurt…" Burt put a hand on his son's shoulder, "is there anything we need to talk about?"

Kurt put down the bottle of wiper fluid. He knew his dad was trying to help, but he couldn't look at him. Back in California, Kurt would have never dreamed of lying to his father in any way, shape, or form. But since they moved to Ohio, he had lied over and over about where he was, what he was doing, and who he was with. If he looked into his father's eyes, Kurt would be done for. He'd have to tell his dad the truth about fixing the Dalton cars, the street racing, the bet...and his feelings about Blaine.

Besides getting grounded for life for disobeying him, telling his dad about his feelings would make them even more real and right now he wanted them to go away.

Kurt took a deep breath and tried to think happy thoughts, but his go-to happy thoughts were about New York, NYADA…and Blaine.

"There's nothing to talk about, dad,” Kurt said. “Nothing at all. It’s been a long day. That’s all.”

Another lie.

Burt sighed. He knew his son. He knew there was something eating him inside.

He also knew not to push.

"Alright." Burt patted Kurt's shoulder. "But you know I'm here if you need to talk, right?"  
  
Kurt nodded, not really listening. He kept nodding even after his dad had walked away.

***  
  
Blaine tried to get his crew to take their cars to Kurt's shop to get something done - a tire rotation, an alignment, or something simple like an oil change. Blaine even offered to pay, but they wouldn't go.

There weren't any races during that week because of the start of school. Now that neither crew brought their cars by the shop, Kurt closed up at the normal time and went home - his evenings completely free. Every night, Kurt took out his trusty calculator and went over the numbers again and again. Even with the money he had saved from what Dalton paid him, he had nowhere near enough. He considered getting a second job, or running away all together.

Right now, running away was looking really good.

On Friday night, Blaine texted Kurt more than a dozen times, asking where their mechanic was. He told Kurt that Mike had slipped a belt, Finn had popped a tired, and Puck had fouled a fuse. The guys didn’t really, but if Kurt had texted Blaine back that he was on his way, Blaine sure as hell would have sliced Mike's belt, popped a tire, and yanked some fuses.

Kurt didn't text Blaine back, not even to say, “Fuck off, asshole! I’m not interested.”

Blaine began to think that Kurt would never forgive him, and a piece of his heart broke away.

***

Kurt sat all alone in his Eclipse, gazing down on the business park from the overlook of an abandoned quarry. Usually, Friday nights in the Hummel household were reserved for family dinners – a tradition dating back to when Kurt’s mother was alive - but his dad had bowed out in lieu of taking Carole on a date to some restaurant called Breadstix. Kurt felt a bit jilted but he couldn't really be mad. In fact, he felt tremendously guilty. If he hadn't skipped so many dinners over the course of the summer, his dad wouldn't have thought that Kurt had stopped caring.

But Kurt did care.

Kurt listened to the cars racing below, saw them shoot out in all directions as the races started and finished, and wondered where Blaine's Mustang was in the mass of lights and the low rumble of engines. He thought about going down there and getting lost in the crowd in order to catch a glimpse of the boy and his black car, but then he wondered if it would be as pathetic as it sounded. Kurt fought back tears as he remembered the first day down at the races and how everything had started to feel right again, like he had found somewhere else he could call home.

His life had changed so many times in a few short months, and home was long gone.

Kurt wiped the tears from his eyes and started his car. He was through torturing himself. It was high time he got back to his mission...the one where he graduated high school, flew off to New York, and never looked back.

***

Blaine flew through the straight away and crossed the finish line, sliding to slow his car’s momentum. He pulled up to his crew, all of them running to congratulate him after his third straight victory of the evening. Blaine cut his engine and climbed out through the window, chest bumping Puck and receiving a half-hug from Sam. Arms reached out to him, eager to touch him. He smiled and laughed, bumping fists and shaking hands. He looked up at the sound of an engine turning over and stopped mid-breath, his eyes searching over the crowd in time to see two signature HID headlights turn and blink out like stars in the darkness.

 

 


	14. Chapter 13

The weather got colder quicker than Kurt expected, and as the temperature began to plummet, he discovered yet another reason to despise Lima, Ohio.

Wind-chill.

Kurt couldn’t seem to get warm enough. He wore sweat pants, a long-sleeve thermal shirt, and two pairs of socks at night, and piled four comforters on his bed (because his father had something against heating the house) but it didn’t help. His thin skin was numb even before he got out of bed in the morning, and he spent his classes struggling to write his assignments while wearing thick gloves on his hands.

No more blissfully warm Santa Ana winters or Thanksgivings spent lying on the beach for Kurt Hummel. He tried his best to look on the bright side. At least the cold weather gave him more opportunities to break out his knee-high leather riding boots, his London Fog full-length trench coat, and his collection of vintage Marc Jacobs scarves.

His days were still spent avoiding Blaine and his gang, as well as trying to find other ways to pad his bank account. He had managed to make a few extra bucks a couple of afternoons a week by tutoring Azimio – the hulking jock who had tried to drench him on the first day of school - in French.

No, the irony was not lost on him.

It was a frigid Friday afternoon, and Kurt walked out into the school parking lot later than usual. Only a few cars were left, and among them, Kurt’s blue Eclipse stuck out like a sore thumb.

His custom paint job pretty much insured that he didn’t waste his time wandering the parking lot in search of his ride, but infuriatingly enough, it made him easy for others to find, too.

Since he arrived to school in the mornings later than the members of the McKinley Crew, he could easily avoid parking next to any of them. (Kurt observed that they must drive to school in a group because their cars were normally parked in a cluster all together. It made Kurt roll his eyes every day when he saw it.) But Blaine would sneak out to the parking lot during lunch break - when some of the other students left to eat off campus - and snag the parking spot next to Kurt…like he had today. Kurt considered keying the side of Blaine’s Mustang to teach him a lesson, but he found that he couldn’t. Blaine’s Mustang hadn’t done anything to offend him, and he couldn’t ruin the paint on such a gorgeous car.

And, maybe he couldn’t do that to Blaine, either.

Besides, it would just give Blaine an excuse to bring the car by Hummel Tires and Lube to have Kurt fix it.

As Kurt made his way through the cars to his Eclipse, he heard a soft whimpering sound, almost like the mewling of a lost toddler. Kurt looked over the row of cars and spotted Brittany sitting on the asphalt next to her pink Honda Fit. This was the first time Kurt had actually seen her car since Santana usually drove her everywhere. The squat little vehicle was the exact color of Pepto Bismol and had Hello Kitty stickers on every possible surface, except for the rear windshield, which sported two custom made vinyls: a huge red heart that had the initials _B.P. + S.L._ _inside_ , and one of an obese cat wearing a crown and below it the caption _Long Live Lord Tubbington!_

_Kurt got the impression from her chosen car décor that Brittany might like cats._

Brittany sat on the cold, wet ground with her legs splayed out in front of her. Kurt's first thought was that she had fallen and hurt herself, maybe twisted an ankle and couldn’t get back up. Kurt rounded the row of cars quickly to get to her. She didn’t look up at him as he approached. Her eyes were downcast and she looked pitifully sad. He walked up beside her and knelt down carefully to talk to her at eye level.

"Brittany," he said as soothingly as he could manage. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Brittany finally looked up, her eyes red rimmed and puffy from crying.

"I have a flat tire,” she said, her voice wavering. "I've been trying to fix it for an hour.” Kurt’s eyes darted quickly to look around her. He saw no jack, no tire iron, no spare tire. How in the world was she trying to fix it? “And now my hands are cold,” she continued. “I can't feel my fingertips.”

Kurt reached out to touch Brittany's trembling hand, and it was indeed cold as ice.

"Oh, sweetie,” he cooed, taking her hands in his and rubbing them to warm them up, “where's Bl-- Santana, and the rest of the crew?"

"They're still in Glee club practice,” Brittany explained. “I left early because I'm sick but when I got to my car, my tire was flat. And then I took all my antibiotics at once and I couldn't remember how to leave." Brittany looked back down at the ground, exceptionally forlorn.

Kurt chuckled softly at her adorable naiveté, hoping she hadn’t heard because he didn’t want to offend the poor girl. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders, then grabbed her arms to help her stand up off the asphalt.

"Put your arms through the sleeves and stick your hands in the pockets," he instructed her. He leaned down to look at the flat tire and noticed a nail wedged deep in the rubber, but that didn’t matter much since the tire itself was on its last leg, so to speak. He walked around the car and examined the rest of the tires - each one in terrible condition. All four of them were balding, the treads nearly flat and the rubber unevenly worn.

"Brittany," he said as he picked her keys up off the ground and opened the rear hatch of her car to get the jack and the spare. "All of your tires are just about gone, and it looks like your alignment is shot.”

“Wh-what does that mean?” she asked through chattering teeth as Kurt’s warm coat chased the chill from her body.

“It means you need all new tires.”

"Really?" She sounded confused. "I thought you just drove on them until they popped, and then you bought a brand new car."

Kurt shook his head.

“No, Brittany. You replace the tires, not the whole car.”

“Thank goodness,” she muttered, “because I really like my car.”

Brittany’s trunk looked like she’d been living out of it for months. Kurt was sure that she could get booked on the show _Hoarders_ if the producers saw her trunk in the condition that it was in. After digging through several cheerleading magazines, numerous stuffed animals, three boxes of protein bars, and a motocross helmet, he found the flap to the spare tire well. He pried it up and removed the tire. Brittany watched Kurt as he worked at loosening the lug nuts, jacking up the car, and removing the flat.

"I found a bag of Gummy Bears in your pocket. Do you mind if I eat some?" she asked, though her muffled, mumbled words told Kurt that she had started in on the bag already. He laughed.

"Go ahead,” he said. “Knock yourself out."

Brittany looked at him thoughtfully as he lowered the car and turned the lug nuts, tightening the bolts and securing the tire.

"You're a unicorn, aren't you?" she asked around a mouthful of colorful candy bears. Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Kurt said. He put the flat tire into the spare tire well and covered it back up.

"Well," Brittany said, trying to dislodge a wayward bear from her tooth with her tongue, and then with her fingernail, "you look magical...like an elf or a fairy. And you do magical things."

Kurt shook his head, wiping his hands with a paper towel he found among her belongings.

"If you say so," Kurt replied with a smile.

" _I_ think you are," she concluded. "Definitely. Blaine's a unicorn, too."

Kurt's smile faded slightly at the mention of Blaine’s name. This automatic response to hearing it made Kurt want to bite his tongue and spit bullets. Kurt didn’t want Blaine to have an effect on him. He didn’t want to have his days filled with thoughts of how much he missed Blaine, but Blaine was becoming difficult for Kurt to escape.

"Okay, Brittany." Kurt forced his smile back on his face and handed the girl her keys. "I think you're good to go."

"Thanks, Kurt!" Her face lit up, her effervescent smile beaming at him. Then her smile dropped a bit. "Oh, but I don't really have any money on me." She patted down her clothes beneath Kurt’s coat, but finding nothing she opened her passenger side door and reached into the glove box, pulling out a Hello Kitty change purse. Kurt felt guilty watching her stress out, trying to find a way to pay him. A hard knot formed in his chest. He put a gentle hand on hers.

"Don't worry about it," Kurt assured her. "This one's on the house."

Brittany opened her mouth to object, but Kurt put a finger to her lips to shush her.

"Why don't we just call this a friend helping a friend?" he suggested.

Brittany’s smile returned, and she kissed the finger that was still pressed to her lips.

"Hey, Hummel!" a shrill voice called loudly from across the parking lot. "What are you doing with my girl?"

Kurt sighed, looking up at Brittany who looked back at him with wide, sympathetic eyes.

"I was just leaving," he called back without looking over his shoulder at the pack of teenagers that headed his way.

"Now don't drive on those tires for long," Kurt advised Brittany. "Make sure you get new ones as soon as you can."

"I will," she said with an enthusiastic nod as he hurried past her toward his own car.

"Baby!" Kurt could hear Santana baby-talking to her girlfriend as he walked away. "You left an hour ago. I thought you were already home...and you've been crying! What did evil diva Hummel do?"

"He performed magic,” she announced happily. “He fixed my flat tire. He's a unicorn..." Brittany looked down at herself and her eyebrows knit together. "Oh, and he forgot his coat."

Blaine pushed past his crew and shuffled through the parked cars to catch up with Kurt, but Kurt had a sizable lead. He leapt into his car and was already pulling out of the parking lot, driving in the direction of home, by the time Blaine reached his Mustang.

Blaine watched him go, then turned and kicked the tire of the car closest to him in frustration. He cursed sharply underneath his breath before making his way back over to his crew.

"What's wrong, Blaine?" Brittany asked, popping another bear in her mouth as Santana rubbed a soothing hand up and down her girlfriend’s arm.

"He won't even talk to me," Blaine muttered, staring at his shoes.

"Well, you did kind of screw him over," Santana put in, taking Brittany into her arms and hugging her tight.

"Why do you even care?" Blaine snapped bitterly, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. "I don't see _you_ trying to be all buddy-buddy with him."

"You’re right. I'm not," Santana said. "I couldn't care less, frankly. That doesn't mean I don't know how he feels. You know, to have a dream pulled out from under your feet. And I think you do, too."

Santana stared pointedly at Blaine until Blaine couldn’t look at her anymore. He turned his head back in the direction Kurt’s car had driven off in.

"So what does that mean?" Blaine asked, his anger curbing just a bit. "That I was just supposed to stand by and watch him get groped and assaulted?"

"You should have treated him like an adult. You should have trusted him to make the best decision for himself, and given him the freedom to choose," Brittany said as she shoved a whole handful of bears into her mouth this time. The whole group turned and looked at her in amazement, jaws hanging open, except for Santana who smiled proudly. Brittany looked up from her bag of bears when she noticed the sudden silence.

"What?" she said in response to their gawking. "I saw it on Dr. Phil."

 


	15. Chapter 14

The following day was Saturday, which meant another full day of working at his father's shop, but Kurt didn't mind so much anymore. It’s not like he had any kind of social life that he was missing out on. Keeping busy and getting his hands dirty kept his mind off of Blaine and his shattered New York dreams. Kurt figured he'd better get used to spending his weekends at the shop because in another ten years he would own Hummel Tires and Lube.

He could hardly wait.

Bent over the engine of a newer model Ford sedan, Kurt straightened at the sound of a car pulling up to the bay. He turned and saw a familiar pink Fit rolling to a stop.

' _Ah_ ,' he thought to himself proudly, ' _a little bit of kindness rewarded with the prize of a customer.'_

This might turn out to be a good day after all.

Kurt smiled as he saw Brittany's blonde ponytail emerge from the passenger side of the car.

"Hey, Britt," he called out from his station, "I'll be with you in a minute." He was actually glad to see her car, knowing that he would be doing tire and alignment work. He was getting tired of oil changes. He was just wrapping up his fifteenth oil change of the morning

He saw the driver’s side door open and braced himself, preparing to hear the berating voice of Brittany's acerbic girlfriend. He kept his smile plastered firmly in place. That was the curse of the customer service racket – having to deal with _customers_. But his smile turned into a scowl when he saw a head of curly, raven-colored hair, followed by hazel eyes turn and look his way.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" Kurt snarled as he blew past Blaine on his way to the front counter.

"Britt's father didn't want her driving on three bald tires and a spare, so he asked me to take her to get them fixed,” Blaine explained, looking exceedingly proud of himself.

Brittany walked up to the counter, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Kurt," she sang, "my dad told me to come in and do all that stuff you said."

Kurt smiled at her.

"That's great," Kurt said warmly, ignoring Blaine's presence at his side. "Why don't you go have a seat inside and I'll get this taken care of for you?"

"Okay," Brittany agreed, bouncing off to the waiting area, sticking her earbuds in her ears. Kurt couldn't tell if they were actually attached to an mp3 player or not.

"Why didn't he bring her himself?" Kurt hissed when Brittany was out of earshot.

Blaine chuckled at the mental image of Brittany’s dad behind the wheel of her pink car.

"He's kind of a big man," Blaine said with an amused smile. "He doesn't fit in the Fit."

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine’s intended pun.

"What about Santana?" Kurt continued, stabbing at the keyboard viciously as he entered Brittany's information.

"She's taking care of her grandmother,” Blaine explained. “Poor lady's got the flu."

"What about, oh I don't know, _anybody_ else?" Kurt growled.

Kurt came out from behind the counter, glaring at Blaine with daggers in his eyes. He grabbed a clipboard and headed off to Brittany’s car with Blaine tailing close behind. Kurt opened the driver’s side door to the Fit, purposefully ignoring Blaine as he leaned inside to take down the car’s mileage.

"Come on, Kurt," Blaine begged. "Please? I told you I was sorry."

Kurt stood up and swung around, raising a fist to further emphasize his point, but Blaine acted swiftly and took Kurt's hand. He grabbed the clipboard out of Kurt’s other hand and tossed it in the front seat of Brittany’s car. Then he took that hand as well.

"I know what you're going to say," Blaine rushed out, cutting Kurt off, "and I know I was wrong. I cost you so much, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you." Kurt struggled for a moment to free himself from Blaine's grasp, but Blaine held on, looking deep into Kurt’s furious eyes. "I promise. Please, just...stop being so mad at me."

Kurt struggled again, but then stopped and sighed, more in defeat than frustration, and Blaine saw a chance; a crack in Kurt's armor. Blaine lifted Kurt's hands to his lips and kissed his fingertips, one at a time, pleading between kisses.

"Please?"

_Kiss._

"Please?"

_Kiss._

"Kurt?"

_Kiss._

"Please? Kurt?"

_Kiss._

Kurt felt his defenses crumbling. He couldn't help it. Blaine was sickeningly adorable, and the smile that danced inside his eyes told Kurt that Blaine knew he had won.

Blaine smiled wider, all lush pink lips and white teeth reaching his eyes, his eyebrows bobbing up and down eagerly.

Kurt threw his head back to hide the smile growing on his face at the embarrassing antics of the boy in front of him.

"Alright, alright," Kurt relented, though he was in no hurry to rush Blaine away while he was still peppering Kurt's hands with kisses. “You’re forgiven.”

"Yay!" Blaine squealed, high pitched and ridiculous. Kurt laughed.

"Now, let me get to work." Kurt pushed Blaine on the shoulders half-heartedly. Blaine pulled Kurt against him, his arm winding its way around Kurt's waist while the other held on to Kurt's hand. Blaine hugged Kurt tightly, swaying a touch as if they were dancing.

Blaine sighed into Kurt's neck, and Kurt melted against him.

"Please believe me when I say I wasn't trying to hurt you," Blaine whispered against Kurt's skin. "I would never do anything to hurt you. And I'm sorry that I didn't let you make your own decisions. I just...I couldn't watch...I couldn't..."

Kurt swallowed hard when he felt a small tear roll down his neck. Blaine nuzzled into the crook of Kurt's neck gently as another tear fell.

Kurt smiled, finding the courage to place a kiss to the top of Blaine's head.

"Thank you," Kurt said, rubbing his cheek along Blaine's curls, "for feeling like you needed to protect me."

“You’re welcome,” Blaine said. “And, I’m sorry for not respecting the fact that you didn’t need me to.”

Kurt nodded, holding on to Blaine tighter, feeling like someone in this hick town finally understood him.

Kurt didn’t care that other customers were watching them, or that work was backing up; now that he was in Blaine’s arms again, he suddenly had an urge not to spend all of Saturday in his dad’s shop.

“I should probably get started on Brittany’s car or it’ll never get done.” Kurt pulled reluctantly out of Blaine’s arms. Blaine’s fingers trailed over Kurt’s body in an effort to keep a hold of him, but Blaine let him go and sat on a stool nearby to watch as Kurt repaired Brittany's Fit. It wasn't even discussed. Blaine pulled up the metal stool from Kurt’s station and sat. _Blaine’s_ stool. Once again, all was a little righter in the world. Kurt smiled to himself, thinking how this had become a thing with them, that no matter what Kurt did in the shop, Blaine always stayed close by.

Before Kurt got into Brittany’s car to pull it up onto a lift, he looked around the shop, trying to locate Mark, but apparently Mark had gone on another one of his legendary breaks because he was nowhere to be seen. Kurt bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He couldn’t do the alignment by himself, and there was no way he was waiting for Mark to get back.

Kurt suddenly had an idea.

He bit his lip and turned his eyes towards Blaine, who looked back at Kurt’s change in expression with interest.

"Hey, Anderson,” Kurt said, “ever do an alignment?"

***

Blaine held on tight to the tire rod as Kurt adjusted the nuts. Kurt was grateful for Blaine's willingness to help, but as soon as they started working, Blaine’s helping became distracting. When Blaine lifted his arms over his head to hold the tire rods straight, his shirt lifted up, exposing tanned skin and his defined abs. Kurt couldn't help but steal glances at them as he tried to finish his work. Even worse was when Blaine shifted on his feet to get a better grip - Blaine's shirt hitched a little higher but his jeans slid a fraction lower and holy shit! Kurt was staring. A loud bang against the floor told both Kurt and Blaine that Kurt had just dropped his wrench, barely missing his left foot.

Blaine turned his head to shoot Kurt a look.

"Are you doing alright over there?" Blaine teased, and Kurt knew he had been caught.

"Yeah," Kurt said, bending quickly to pick up the tool and cover his rapidly coloring cheeks. "Yup, everything's fine over here." Kurt lifted his head to chance a peek at Blaine's amused face, but he caught sight of something else instead - a jagged scar that traveled over Blaine's ribs and disappeared further up his shirt.

Blaine could see the shift in Kurt's expression and took a guess at what Kurt had found.

"Blaine?" Kurt walked over to him, examining the faded injury. "What is that?"

"Nothing." Blaine cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's just...I got into a fight at a school dance a long time ago. But that’s ancient history. It's better now."

Blaine held his breath as Kurt ran careful fingers over the smooth, silvery scar; any thought of his past tragedy dissolved beneath the heat of Kurt's touch.

"Kurt?"

Blaine's voice trembled. Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes, his pupils dark and wide, his expression slightly pained in the most tempting way.

Kurt heard another engine cut outside the bay doors, and the sound snapped the magnetic pull that was drawing him to Blaine's vulnerable body, which he realized was trapped beneath Brittany's car.

"Oh, God, right,” Kurt muttered apologetically. “Go ahead and let go.”

Blaine lowered his arms and shook them, trying to bring the blood back to his aching limbs. A shy smile spread over Blaine's face as he looked up through his lashes at Kurt. It was a look that made Kurt’s heart lodge in his throat.

“Uh, thanks…for the help,” Kurt stammered, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. “Now shoo so I can get Britt’s car down.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Blaine said, saluting Kurt as he turned on his heels and headed back for Kurt’s station.

Kurt lowered Brittany's car as Blaine wiped down Kurt’s tools and started putting them back in their places. Kurt smirked as he watched him.

"You vying for my job, Anderson?" Kurt remarked. Blaine grinned, but didn't look up at him.

"Maybe I _could_ get a job here," Blaine mused, "that way I could see you more often."

" _More_ often?" Kurt laughed. "I can barely get rid of you as it is."

Blaine laughed louder. Kurt took a moment to examine Blaine's smile. Kurt realized he was beginning to love Blaine's smile - the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up, the way Blaine scrunched his nose and his eyebrows came together. Kurt loved Blaine's laugh as well, and his voice, and dear God, the way this boy smelled. That couldn't be normal. It had to come from a bottle and if Kurt could just find it, he would spray it on every article of clothing and linen he owned. Blaine looked up then and caught the dreamy look in Kurt's eyes.

"Do you see something you like, Hummel?" Blaine asked, looking back down at the tools before shutting the cabinet door.

"Yes," Kurt admitted boldly, spurred on by the smoldering look that had settled in Blaine's eyes. "Something I'd like to kiss, actually."

Blaine's eyes snapped up to meet Kurt's. Kurt licked his lips slowly. Blaine's eyes followed the subtle movement, lips parting slightly as he swallowed hard.

Kurt walked past Blaine, heading to the counter, and Blaine slipped his hand smoothly into Kurt's as he followed.

Blaine broke away and walked ahead to the waiting room to summon Brittany. Brittany bounced over to the counter and handed Kurt her credit card. Surprise of all surprises, it was bright pink and had Hello Kitty’s face smack on it. Kurt looked it over once with a judgmental shake of his head before he slid it through the card reader.

"Thanks, Kurt," Brittany said, taking the impossibly pink Visa card back from him. "And I wanted to say thanks again for working your magic for me yesterday. And I still have your coat. I would have brought it back but it smells like lavender so I put it under my pillow. But I promise I'll give it back next time I see you."

"Of course," Kurt said, handing her a receipt and a pen.

"If there's anything you ever need…" Brittany spoke slowly, concentrating on signing her name, "just ask. Ok?”

"I will," Kurt assured her, though he wasn’t sure what Brittany thought she could help him with. Still, no one in the world is so rich as to turn down a friend.

That’s what his mother always said.

Kurt walked Blaine and Brittany to her car. Brittany hopped into the passenger seat as Blaine opened the driver’s side door. Kurt shook his head and laughed.

"What?" Blaine asked, mocking offense.

"Just...this car does not suit you," Kurt said with a chuckle.

Blaine took a moment to look over Kurt's face - his precisely sculpted eyebrows, his amazing glasz eyes, the sharp slope of his perfect nose. Blaine leaned in closely, eyes trained on Kurt's soft, delicate lips.

"I should just kiss you now," Blaine whispered.

"But, you won't," Kurt said, breathing in that intoxicating scent that was all Blaine, "because you're a gentleman."

"You're right," Blaine agreed. "I promised myself I wouldn't kiss you unless you asked me to."

"And I promised myself I would ask you to.”

"Yeah?” Blaine said, sounding deliciously breathless.

"Yeah," Kurt replied, nodding vigorously. "Soon."

"Well…." Blaine pulled away from Kurt, "can I come by later?"

Kurt smiled.

"I'll be waiting."

Blaine lifted a hand to push a hair out of Kurt's face. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed at the touch. Kurt felt Blaine's fingertips skim down his cheek, over his jawline, down his neck. Kurt trembled slightly as Blaine's fingers continued their journey over Kurt's shoulder, down his arm, and slipping into Kurt's hand. Kurt opened his eyes as Blaine slowly lifted his hand. Blaine lowered his head a bit, looking up through a fan of lashes as he kissed Kurt's knuckles - another little ritual that made Kurt's heart swell - but this time Blaine's tongue escaped the seam of his lips to travel slowly up between Kurt's index and middle finger.

Kurt almost moaned. The sinful sensation of Blaine's tongue dragging across his skin rushed straight to Kurt's groin, filling his entire body with heat. Blaine broke away, enjoying the fire that had ignited in Kurt's normally cool eyes, reveling in the fact that he had put that fire there.

"Good bye, gorgeous." Blaine winked at him, the grin on his face shameless.

Kurt backed away as he watched Blaine climb into the tiny car and start the engine. Brittany was breathing on the rolled-up window and drawing pictures in the vapor, completely oblivious to the two boys flirting behind her.

"Oh, and Blaine," Kurt said before Blaine backed away, "when you come back, could you come back in something domestic?"

Blaine blew Kurt a kiss.

“As you wish.”


	16. Chapter 15

Blaine did return at closing. Kurt smiled when he saw him approach. It was nice to have Blaine back in his life. Kurt had to admit that having Blaine around felt...right, somehow. As adolescent as it sounded, with Blaine being his first real ever crush and all, Kurt could picture his life this way - seeing Blaine at the beginning and end of every day, meeting together to walk home, shooting the shit about school or work, enjoying the endless mind-numbing minutiae that couples do.

"Hey, beautiful," Blaine greeted him, pulling Kurt into his arms and kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey, yourself," Kurt said, struggling, but not all that hard, to get out of Blaine's grasp. "I'm all dirty!" Kurt squealed in protest, but Blaine held him tighter.

"Then get me dirty," Blaine teased, kissing playfully down Kurt’s cheek and over to his neck, latching on to a spot that Blaine knew was especially ticklish.

Kurt squealed louder, pushing with all his might as he broke into a fit of laughter.

"Stop!" Kurt screeched through chuckles as he fought to breathe. "Please, stop! Blaaaaiiiinnnneeee!!!"

"Hey! No making out in the garage!" Burt yelled. Blaine let go of Kurt and Kurt shot away from Blaine, utterly mortified. Burt looked stern for all of five seconds, but then he aimed a half smile at Blaine.

"Nice to see you back, Blaine," Burt commented, raising a hand in greeting.

"Good to be back, sir," Blaine said, nodding at Kurt’s father.

A tense silence followed those words. Kurt stared down at his hands, wiping them frantically on a rag as if he could not get them clean enough. Blaine suddenly found his shoes fairly interesting. Burt watched them both fidget, and then awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Uh, Kurt, I'm going to go ahead and lock up here. Why don't you and Blaine head out?"

Kurt smiled up at his dad, face still flushed from his laughing fit.

"Thanks, dad!"

Kurt tossed the rag aside and grabbed Blaine's hand, pulling him out the bay door with the sound of Burt's hushed chuckle following them.

Blaine pulled Kurt towards his car, but Kurt tugged Blaine in the opposite direction.

"Walk with me?" Kurt asked sweetly, his accompanying smile coy.

Blaine kissed Kurt's hand, and then made a sweeping gesture toward the road.

"Lead the way."

Kurt led Blaine down the sidewalk to the main road. He sighed, taking in a deep breath of cool, twilight air.

"God, it's so good to be out of that place and just walk around," Kurt said. Blaine watched Kurt's face as they walked, his hair backlit by the setting sun, captivated by his pale, glowing skin and his prismatic blue eyes.

"So, how are things at the shop going?" Blaine asked. It was kind of a deceptive question. Blaine had tried to do everything he could think of to help promote Kurt's dad's shop. He had spoken to teachers at the school, other students, even other crews at the races, trying to convince them all to throw business Kurt's way. He had palmed a whole stack of business cards off the counter and handed them out to everyone he came across. It got to the point that people had started avoiding him. Still, he was curious to see if his plan had paid off.

"It's good, actually," Kurt admitted, his face lighting up as he spoke. "Do you know who came in right after you guys? Ms. Janney, the calculus teacher. She even had one of our business cards. I've never even seen her at the shop before."

Blaine looked down quickly and bit his lip to suppress a chuckle.

Blaine lifted his head when he noticed Kurt leading them off the main road onto a side street. They walked hand in hand down a narrow alley behind some houses, a large portion of which was shielded by overhanging trees. The trees were beautiful, but the houses looked run down and old - probably original to this area of town.

Kurt walked Blaine over to an area of wall under the canopy of a tree whose branches reached almost completely to the ground. Blaine raised a questioning eyebrow, but his hazel eyes turned dark, melting into a sultry liquid gold as he watched Kurt back himself up to the wall, dragging Blaine with him. Kurt took Blaine’s arms and wrapped them around his waist, and the while looking into his eyes.

"I drove by this place by accident when I first got here," Kurt explained, his voice an almost reverent whisper. "I thought it looked kind of peaceful and private."

"I suppose it is," Blaine agreed. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, staring almost solely at Kurt's perfect lips. "But why are we here?"

Kurt chewed on the inside of his cheek, giving some thought to his answer.

"Because I thought...I thought I might ask you for that kiss."

Blaine took in a sharp, broken breath. All he wanted to do was kiss this boy...well, that wasn't exactly true.

Blaine wanted to woo him, romance him.

Blaine wanted to make Kurt fall in love with him.

Blaine could kiss him now; he could completely dominate Kurt’s lips with his own, kiss him until he couldn't breathe. But if anyone deserved a special moment, it was Kurt.

"Not here, Kurt," Blaine whispered with a hint of regret.

Kurt’s brow furrowed with confusion and hurt.

"Why not?"

Blaine smiled at the petulant sound on offense in Kurt’s tone.

"Because, don't you want it to be more special than this?" Blaine asked.

"What do you mean _more_ special?" Kurt almost whined. "What could be more special than being here with you?"

Blaine whimpered at the innocent sound of want in Kurt's voice, but Blaine stayed strong.

"I want your first kiss to be...more romantic than up against a wall in an old, dirty alleyway."

"First of all" - Kurt pulled Blaine closer and leaned in to his ear. His breath tickled Blaine's neck, shooting tremors straight down his spine - "I'm not sure it would actually count as a  _first_  kiss since I can't seem to keep your mouth off of me."

Blaine laughed louder than he meant to at that, ducking his face from view.

"Second,” Kurt continued, “ _I_ chose this place, so doesn't that mean that I think it’s romantic?"

Blaine felt his resolve slipping, but he stood firm, stepping back and putting an inch of distance between them.

"Trust me, Kurt…" Blaine almost moaned as Kurt slipped his hands beneath Blaine’s jacket and started running his nails up and down his back, "you don't want it like this."

"I want you..." Kurt whispered, his eyes traveling down to Blaine’s mouth.

Another slip. Blaine wasn't sure there was much more resolve left to hold on to.

He straightened up slightly.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said. His voice went a fraction higher and he winced. "You can't change my mind."

"Really?" Kurt asked smoothly, pulling Blaine back toward him, closing that inch of space up again. The change in Kurt's voice startled Blaine. It was deeper, sultry...where had that voice been hiding? "Not even if I do this?"

Blaine felt Kurt’s lips brush against his neck.

This time Blaine did moan.

Kurt smiled, that delicious sound from Blaine's lips making him bolder. Kurt pressed his lips against Blaine's neck again, more insistently this time.

"No," Blaine said, praying that he could act stronger than he truly was. "Not even..."

Kurt sucked hesitantly, tracing over the area lightly with the tip of his tongue. A shock shot straight to Blaine's groin. When Blaine felt the tip of Kurt's tongue paint a wet stripe up his neck to his earlobe, his knees nearly buckled. Blaine put his hands on the wall, one on each side of Kurt's head to ground him, but mostly to keep from dropping to his knees, taking Kurt's cock into his mouth, and worshipping him with his tongue.

He couldn’t help it. Neck kisses happened to be Blaine’s biggest weakness.

"That's not fair, Hummel," Blaine groaned, trying to pull away, but Kurt followed the movement and kept his lips securely fastened to Blaine's neck. "Ugh, you're going to kill me!"

"Consider it payback," Kurt said with a devious grin. "You do the same thing to me all the time. Not so fun, is it?"

"On the contrary." Blaine pulled Kurt against his body, holding possessively to the small of his back and then pressing Kurt back into the wall. Kurt could feel Blaine's erection press against his thigh, and he gasped. "I'm having an _amazing_ time."

Feeling Blaine - all of Blaine - press against him lit something under his skin and in his blood. The sudden urge to let this stunning boy lay him down and have his way with him became overwhelming.

"So, how about that kiss?" Blaine whispered. Blaine's lips hovered mere inches from Kurt's mouth, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Kurt’s skin.

Kurt nodded, having lost the capacity for speech. Blaine shook his head, rubbing the tip of his nose against Kurt's nose, Kurt's lips trying to catch Blaine's as he moved just out of reach.

"Nu-uh-uh..." Blaine taunted him cruelly. "Ask me."

"Please," Kurt spoke noiselessly around the lump in his throat, "kiss me."

Blaine smiled, his lips brushing softly along Kurt's. Kurt held completely still, waiting to be kissed.

"Ask me again," Blaine whispered.

Kurt's eyelids fluttered closed, his eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks. Kurt took a deep steadying breath, the closeness of Blaine's lips maddening, especially since every time Kurt tried to claim them, Blaine would pull away.

"Blaine..." The needy sound in Kurt's breathless voice almost broke Blaine, but he waited. "Blaine, please kiss me. I...I need you to kiss me. I..."

There were no more words, nothing else spoken. Blaine's fingers threaded into Kurt's hair, his fingertips massaging his skin. Blaine captured Kurt's lips - only the hint of a touch at first. The smooth slide of Blaine's tongue as it brushed across Kurt's parted lips caused Kurt to inhale quickly, and immediately he was surrounded by everything that was Blaine. His mind flooded with a hundred thoughts, sounds, and images at once. The smell of Blaine's leather jacket brought to mind the first time they met. It reminded him of leaning over the seats of Blaine's Mustang, surrounded by that scent that would always remind Kurt of Blaine.

Blaine's tongue brushed against Kurt's, barely a touch, more like a taste. Kurt's mouth filled with the flavor of peppermint and coffee. Kurt wondered - if he kissed Blaine every morning before they left for work, is this what he would taste like?

All around Kurt was warmth, from the kneading touch of Blaine's fingers in his hair, to where Blaine's chest had Kurt secured against the wall, down to the hard length pressing into Kurt's thigh, all threatening to ignite him from the inside. He slipped for a moment into his daydreams, where he and Blaine make out in the front seat of Blaine's Mustang, or the one where they lie on the couch, lazily sharing kisses while watching _Moulin_ _Rouge_ , or his favorite one where they drive to the desert, surrender all sense of modesty, and make love on the rock face under the stars.

In his head, Kurt lived a thousand kisses - each one sweet and tender, soft and loving, with a breath of leather and a hint of peppermint - and every single one of them with Blaine.

For however long the kiss lasted, it was over too soon.

Blaine pulled away, breaking their kiss, and Kurt had to remember how to breathe without him.

Kurt opened his eyes to see Blaine looking back at him, his cheeks flushed, his eyes returning to that heavenly hazel color Kurt had fallen desperately in love with.

"That was..." Blaine started, pausing to catch his breath.

"Perfect?" Kurt finished timidly, hoping to whatever spaghetti monster in the sky that Blaine thought so, too.

Blaine nodded and fell back into Kurt's arms. Kurt held him, hugging him tight. Kurt held him until the shadows outside the line of the tree began to fade and the temperature started to drop.

Blaine held Kurt until the street lamps flickered on and the doors of the houses around them locked for the night.

"I feel like I should thank you," Kurt said, nuzzling into Blaine's neck, trying to catch more of his scent while he sought out a haven from the cold.

"For what?" Blaine asked as he took off his jacket and wrapped it around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt let go of Blaine for only a moment to let Blaine take care of him.

"For giving that to me," Kurt answered, sighing into the warmth of the jacket that surrounded him.

"Then, I should thank you for asking me," Blaine said, leaning in to kiss Kurt again, chastely against his lips, the only part of him that hadn't gotten cold yet.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Kurt asked, blushing as he always did where Blaine was concerned. "That kiss belonged to you from the moment we met."

Blaine slipped his hand into Kurt's and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

"I had always hoped so," Blaine whispered over his knuckles, more for himself than for Kurt.

Blaine's eyes flashed up to meet Kurt's. Kurt thought he saw something unhappy shimmering deep within them, but it disappeared before Kurt could catch it. Blaine smiled and tugged a protesting Kurt off of the wall.

"Come on," Blaine urged, pulling harder until Kurt came stumbling forward with a groan, "time to return to the real world before we freeze."

"We could always keep kissing to keep warm," Kurt argued.

"Maybe," Blaine said with a smirk. "We'd still die eventually."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, cuddling closer as they walked, holding tight to Blaine's hand, "but if you know a better way to go, then show it to me."

Blaine grimaced.

"Ugh!" he groaned as he folded over dramatically. "You're killing me, beautiful! You're...you're killing me!"


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, a favorite character of mine comes back with some much needed plot line exposition... :)

The next night, completely out of the blue, a familiar silver car rolled through the bay doors of Hummel Tires and Lube.

"One minute," Kurt called out, bent over some paperwork from his last repair. Before he could turn to address his customer, Kurt was lifted into the air and spun around.

"Kuuuuuurrrttt!" Jeff squealed as he picked Kurt up and shook him like a rag doll.

"Jeff! Jeff!" Kurt choked out between giggles. "For God's sake! Put me down!"

"Hey!" Finn barked, stepping out of the office at the sound of Kurt's screaming. He squinted, staring down the blond boy manhandling Kurt. "What's going on out here?"

"It's okay, Finn," Kurt said, catching his breath as Jeff dropped him unceremoniously back on his feet. "I'm just talking to a friend."

Finn nodded uncomfortably, uncertain about leaving Kurt alone with a member of the rival crew, but went back into the office and shut the door behind him.

"Oh, Kurt!" Jeff hugged Kurt from behind. "Friends! I missed you."

"Yeah, well, I think I missed you most of all, scarecrow." Kurt swatted at Jeff's hands until Jeff let him go.

"So, how long has Frankenteen been working here?" Jeff asked, jabbing a thumb at Finn, who was pacing the perimeter of the office and bent over his cell phone, frantically texting. He was probably informing on them to the rest of the McKinley Crew, but Kurt didn't care. He wasn't lying when he said that he missed Jeff. On the whole Dalton Crew, Jeff was the only one who Kurt considered a real friend.

"Since work's picked up around here," Kurt said, dropping down onto a nearby stool, unaware of his own exhaustion until right then.

"So, does that mean you're cool with the McKinley Crew now?” Jeff asked, picking up a wrench off Kurt’s tool cabinet, fiddling with it for a second, then returning it to its spot. “Last I heard, there was some culture clashing.”

"Yup." Kurt nodded, taking another glance back at Finn. "I'm pretty sure Santana still hates me, but otherwise everyone else is cool."

"It's nice that your dad gave Finn a job," Jeff commented. Always moving, he shifted on his feet and thrummed his fingers against his thighs.

"Yeah, well,” Kurt shrugged, “it doesn't hurt that his mom is also dating my dad, so..."

Jeff nodded.

“Gotcha.”

Kurt didn’t want to think about that too much. He liked Finn and all, and he loved Carole, but he wasn’t sure yet how he felt about having a _new_ family. It had been only him and his dad for so long. Even with him going off to college (hopefully), their dynamic would change.

Kurt had had enough with change in his life. He wasn’t eager for more.

"So, what brings you by, Jeff?" Kurt asked, using Jeff as a distraction to keep those thoughts away. “You’re a long way from home.”

"Well," Jeff said, looking down at his feet rather sheepishly, "I've actually been by a few times hoping to catch you, but you guys have been so busy, and you’re never alone."

Kurt nodded in agreement, not commenting so Jeff would continue. Jeff shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, his body becoming a single tense muscle.

"Anyway, I was hoping to talk to you about what I need to do to make my car more, you know, street ready…” he said, then dropped his voice, “and maybe discuss some other...you know...stuff..."

Kurt waited a moment longer to see if Jeff would elaborate, but Jeff kept his head bent, a bashful smile on his face, blushing hotly. When Jeff lifted his eyes to look at Kurt, Kurt arched an eyebrow, intrigued by his behavior. Jeff was such an outgoing, energetic boy. It was out-of-character to see him this way.

"Well, let's take a look, shall we?" Kurt stood, sliding the stool over to Jeff so that he could sit in exchange for the boy's keys.

Kurt approached Jeff’s car, eying the 300ZX up and down, peeking in through the windows, taking a moment to choose his words before he spoke.

"I noticed that your car is a bit more…rough around the edges, compared to the other guys' cars," Kurt said carefully.

"Yeah," Jeff agreed with a bob of his head. "I don't quite have the...uh...resources, that the other guys have."

Kurt had suspected as much. Sebastian had mentioned that Jeff attended Dalton on scholarship, and by the way Jeff dressed when he was out of uniform (ripped jeans and t-shirts paired with Converse sneakers that had seen better days) Kurt didn’t assume that Jeff had much in the way of disposable income to spend. One thing Kurt had to commend the Dalton Crew on, regardless of their faults, was that they didn’t seem to make an issue of Jeff’s situation. He was just _one of the guys_.

"Okay." Kurt clapped his hands and then put them on his hips. He looked the car over again from bumper to bumper. Jeff nibbled his lower lip as he watched Kurt's blue-grey eyes sweep over his car. Kurt felt the anxiety radiate off of him, from his tapping feet to his twiddling thumbs.

"Here's what we'll do," Kurt said, "I'll put it up on the lift and give it a thorough once over. I'll make a list of the things you’ll want to get done, in order of importance. Then, whatever I can teach you to fix, we'll do together. You'll only have to pay for the parts we replace. Agreed?"

"Oh, Kurt," Jeff said, shaking his head slowly, overwhelmed by Kurt’s generous offer, "I can't..."

"Hey…" Kurt put a hand on Jeff's knee and squeezed gently, "I'm being selfish here. I want you to hang out with me for a while." Kurt lowered his voice to a whisper. "I need someone else for company besides Finn." Jeff looked back at Kurt, a small smile curling his thin, pink lips. "Besides, if you're any good, maybe you can come work here, too."

Kurt winked and Jeff blushed again – something Jeff didn’t normally do around the other guys, only Kurt…and one other person.

* * *

 

Luckily work had slowed down for the afternoon. Kurt put Jeff's 300ZX on the lift and started teaching him minor repairs. They changed his oil, checked his fuses, aligned his tires, and inspected his brakes. Kurt was happy to have Jeff there to chat with, and Jeff was keen to learn anything Kurt was willing to teach him.

"Hey," Kurt joked, "maybe you can do all this stuff for the guys now. Take my old job."

Jeff chuckled good-naturedly, but when Kurt shot a look Jeff's way, he noticed the boy’s eyes shift nervously.

"Jeff, you seem like you want to talk to me about something," Kurt said, getting his station set up to flush Jeff's radiator. “Something important.”

"Yeah," Jeff admitted with a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I do."

"Well, get to it, Jeff. While we're still young," Kurt teased. He wanted to ease Jeff's discomfort, but Jeff started pacing in a circle, gathering his thoughts. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and then released his hidden confession all at once.

"There'ssomeoneIreallylikeandIneedhelpaskingthemout."

When Jeff finished, he looked equally relieved and terrified.

Kurt's eyebrows shot up.

"Okay..." Kurt turned away from the car to give Jeff his undivided attention. Jeff's pale complexion turned completely brick red up to his scalp till it showed through the parts in his hair. He kept his head bowed, his eyes glued to his shoes. He seemed to shrink before Kurt’s eyes. If he ducked his head any lower, he would sink straight into the floor.

Kurt had a feeling he knew exactly who Jeff was talking about, but he needed Jeff to tell him so he could be sure.

"Jeff, you're a smart, funny, handsome guy," Kurt gushed. "I don't see you having a problem asking a girl out..."

"It's a guy," Jeff clarified.

Kurt grinned.

"Ahhhh." Kurt nodded emphatically. "I see. Well, do you think he knows?"

Jeff shrugged, refusing to look Kurt in the eyes.

"Well, I don't know how much help I can be," Kurt admitted apologetically. "But I think the best course of action is just to be honest, because I have a feeling the person you're thinking of feels the same way."

Jeff's face was still bright red, but he glanced up at Kurt's face and smiled.

"You think so, Kurtie?"

Kurt rolled his eyes at the horrible nickname.

"Yes, _Jeffy_ ," Kurt retorted. "Yes, I do."

Jeff walked over and wrapped his arms around Kurt, hugging him tight, relief evident in the way his muscles relaxed around him. Kurt patted Jeff gently on the back, returning the hug. Kurt wasn’t really much of a hugger, but it couldn’t be avoided around Jeff, and less and less did Kurt really mind.

"Okay, big guy," Kurt said with one last squeeze. "Enough cuddle time. Let's get back to work."

For the next half hour, Kurt and Jeff shelved the personal chitchat as Kurt demonstrated how to siphon fluids from the car's system. Lost in their own separate thoughts, they mostly went through the motions, until Kurt couldn't stand the silence anymore. He had a question in his brain burning to be asked...one he didn't think Blaine would answer entirely. He mulled it over as he lowered Jeff’s car from the lift. Jeff raised the hood and started re-checking the engine for alert codes under Kurt’s supervision. Finn had left hours before, and the last customer had picked up their car already. They were alone in the shop, with no chance of anyone overhearing their conversation.

"Can I ask you something?" Kurt asked, watching Jeff eye the display of the code reader.

"Sure."

Kurt held his breath. Now that the moment had come, he wasn’t sure it was appropriate to put Jeff on the spot, but Kurt needed to know.

"What is the deal between Wes and Blaine?"

Jeff put the handheld computer down.

“Hasn’t Blaine told you?” he asked, his face drawn, as if he had hoped the burden of answering this particular question would never fall on him.

“No,” Kurt said, “and I know that I should probably wait for _him_ to tell me, but I don’t honestly know when that will be. He can be kind of…stubborn.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed with a laugh. “That’s one word for it.”

“Besides,” Kurt continued, “I was hoping for the _unedited_ version.”

Jeff stared at Kurt with pleading eyes.

“Kurt…”

“I wouldn’t ask you,” Kurt cut in, hoping to make Jeff see reason, “except, I kind of got put in the middle of this, and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

Jeff pulled up a stool and sat on it, breathing out a long sigh. He looked down at his feet, swinging them back and forth. Kurt grabbed a stool and sat close by, his presence meant to nudge Jeff on. Jeff’s eyes clouded over the way they always did when Jeff thought about something difficult. Finally, he sighed and gave a slight nod, more to himself than Kurt. Kurt couldn’t imagine what convinced Jeff to tell the story, but Kurt wondered if maybe the memory of Sebastian almost throwing him to the ground and Jeff running to his rescue had something to do with it.

Jeff took in a deep breath. He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if he wasn't sure where to begin.

"Wes and Blaine were actually best friends once," Jeff started, picking at the oil beneath his fingernails. "I mean, we all pretty much grew up together out in Westerville - Blaine, Wes, me, and Nick. But Blaine and Wes grew up down the block from each other. We went to the same schools, were in all the same classes, liked all the same things, but Blaine and Wes, they were like brothers from another mother..." Jeff drifted off a little, lifting his eyes and staring off into space. Kurt tried to piece together a picture of Blaine growing up. What could have possibly happened to split up such good...

"Bles!" Jeff blurted out suddenly. Kurt looked at Jeff as if he had grown another head.

"What?" Kurt asked bemused.

"Or Waine?" Jeff furrowed his brow in thought.

"What are you talking about?" Kurt asked.

"Their bro couple name," Jeff said, but then shook his head, deciding against it. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," Jeff continued, "all of Blaine's close friends knew he was gay long before his parents did. He figured they would have a hard time handling it, so he put off telling them. After eighth grade, we were all headed to Dalton, and Blaine decided that it would be a good time to come out.”

“How did they react?” Kurt asked when Jeff paused to take a breath.

“His dad was _pissed_ ,” Jeff replied with a scowl. “At the last minute, he pulled Blaine out of Dalton and sent him to public school. Thought it might toughen him up...or keep him in the closet. I don't know. We really didn't get to hang out much after that, seeing as we all board at Dalton and Blaine still lived at home. Well, his freshman year..."

Jeff peered into Kurt’s eyes.

"Did Blaine ever tell you about the Sadie Hawkins dance?"

Kurt shook his head, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"He mentioned something about getting into a fight at a school dance."

Jeff laughed sadly.

"Maybe I should let Blaine tell you that part," Jeff said. "All I'll say is that he asked a guy to go with him, some jocks didn't like it, and yeah, they got into a fight."

Kurt swallowed a wave of nerves, wondering when Blaine would ever tell him the truth about that night.

"Anyway, Blaine’s dad blamed his mom, his mom blamed his dad..."

"For what?" Kurt asked.

"For Blaine being gay."

Jeff grabbed a paper towel and some Lava soap from Kurt’s station and started scrubbing his hands. Kurt could see how uncomfortable talking about this made him, but he would always be grateful. Maybe he could find a way to make it up to Jeff somehow.

"In the end, his mom left and brought Blaine here to Lima, and things got better. I mean, Lima's not the most progressive place in the country, and McKinley has its share of homophobes, but Blaine fit in here. He joined the football team and became student body president, and then there's Glee club. He and Puck formed the McKinley Crew at the end of sophomore year, and we got to see him more often."

"But, hasn't he been gone?" Kurt asked, leaning forward on his stool, hanging on Jeff's every word.

Jeff wadded up the dirty paper towel and tossed it in the trash.

"Yeah. His dad found out about all the stuff Blaine was doing, _annnnd_ that he kissed a girl..."

Kurt chuckled.

"Tell me!"

"Nope," Jeff said with the first smile he’d worn since he started talking about Wes and Blaine, "I have been sworn to secrecy."

"Ugh!" Kurt groaned, tossing a rag at Jeff. Jeff nearly tipped his stool trying to avoid it. "Keep going then."

"Blaine's dad thought he'd been _cured_ ," Jeff said, forming air quotes with his fingers for emphasis. "He came back, told Blaine he wanted to make amends, and moved Blaine out to Chicago. That was during junior year."

"And Blaine went? Just forgave everything?"

"Well, yeah," Jeff answered simply. "Blaine really loved his dad. Blaine lived with him for six months. They built Blaine's 'Stang together." Jeff's smile faded. "But then Blaine's dad came home one day and found Blaine in his bedroom all over some guy..."

Kurt felt a sharp pang of jealousy hit him square in the gut. It was a selfish reaction but one he couldn’t help. Kurt knew that Blaine hadn’t been sitting on a block of ice, waiting for him to come along, and he immediately felt guilty. Jeff must have seen the switch in emotion on Kurt's face because he stopped talking, but Kurt looked at Jeff and motioned for him to continue.

"Blaine's dad was furious. Kicked him out. Gave him the whole 'I'm leaving for an hour and when I come back you'd better be gone' speech."

Kurt's heart broke. Why couldn't Blaine have a dad like Kurt's? A dad that could see all the wonderful and beautiful things about Blaine? A dad who wasn’t a complete homophobic asshole? Kurt’s chest hurt that Blaine’s father had been so unfair, but he was still confused.

"I don't understand," Kurt said. "What does this have to do with Wes and Blaine hating each other?"

Jeff averted his eyes again. "That night at the dance? When Blaine got jumped? Wes knew about it. It was a bunch of his old friends who did it, and they told him the night before."

"And he didn't let Blaine know?" Kurt gasped, his eyes hot with angry tears. "He-he didn't warn Blaine ahead of time?"

Jeff hung his head.

"No," Jeff said. "The way I heard it, Wes said that Blaine was a big boy and could take care of himself. He said he didn't want to get involved."

The roar of another engine broke the tension that had built up in the shop around Jeff’s story, and Kurt smiled. He knew that engine. He’d know the sound of Blaine’s Mustang anywhere. Hearing it approach, rolling up to the bay, Kurt felt an intense need to be in Blaine's arms. Kurt spun around and hopped off his stool. When he saw Blaine enter the garage he threw his arms around him, knocking him backward about a foot or so.

"Oof! Kurt!" Blaine squeaked in a shocked voice.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt answered, his voice wavering as he fought back tears.

"Kurt, are you alright?" Blaine tried to push away to look into Kurt's eyes, but Kurt only held on tighter. Eventually, Blaine gave up, winding his arms around Kurt, threading one hand into his hair. This uncharacteristic display was a surprising but not unwelcome development, and Blaine wanted to hold on to it for as long as it lasted.

"You're working late," Blaine said when Kurt let up enough to let Blaine breathe.

"I'm always working late," Kurt said with a flirty wink, "that way I know I'll get to see you."

Blaine was confused by the change in Kurt's demeanor, but he didn't complain.

"Actually, it's my fault." Jeff crept out from behind his car. Blaine nodded at his old friend, extending a hand, which Jeff took and shook.

"Yeah, Finn texted and told us you were here," Blaine said.

"And you didn't rush down to rescue me?" Kurt teased.

"No," Blaine said with a smile, "Jeff's a stand-up guy. I wasn't worried."

Kurt leaned into Blaine's side, holding his arm possessively. Jeff looked from Kurt to Blaine and sighed.

"Well, I best be going."

Kurt took Jeff’s hand, and let Jeff pull him into one last hug.

"Thanks...for everything..." Jeff stammered. "You know, fixing my car...and stuff..."

"No problem, Jeff." Kurt released Jeff, but Jeff seemed reluctant to go. "Come back anytime."

Jeff nodded, then walked away toward his car.

"Oh, and Jeff?"

Jeff turned back, raising his eyebrows in response.

"About…you know who…be honest with your feelings. Everything will turn out all right."

Jeff smiled.

"Thanks."

Jeff got in his car, started his engine, and pulled out of the bay, giving Kurt and Blaine a wave as he sped away.

Blaine hugged Kurt, breathing him in as if they had been apart for months.

"God, you smell good," Blaine sighed into Kurt's shoulder. Kurt grinned.

"I smell like motor oil," Kurt countered.

"You smell like _Kurt_." Blaine brushed his lips against Kurt's impossibly soft cheek. Blaine found it fascinating that a boy who worked so hard every day could stay so soft and smooth. "And if motor oil is in there somewhere, then so be it."

Kurt could have stayed wrapped up in Blaine's arms all night, but Jeff's words kept buzzing in his brain, and the longer Blaine held him, the more he wanted to cry.

"So, what's up, Blaine?" Kurt asked.

"Well, first off, I needed to hold you."

Kurt slid his arms beneath Blaine's jacket and his hands under his shirt to feel his warmth. Blaine hummed at the touch of Kurt’s hands on his skin.

"And, second,” Blaine said, “I wanted to do this..."

Blaine moved slowly out of Kurt's arms, but only far enough to see his face. Once he had taken a moment to gaze into Kurt's eyes, Blaine pulled Kurt into a kiss – long and slow, his mouth caressing Kurt's lips, sending tingles shooting down his limbs. Blaine gently nibbled Kurt's lower lip and Kurt moaned. Blaine smiled at the sound, delighting at his effect on Kurt...an effect he could feel against his leg the longer Blaine held him.

Blaine broke the kiss, chuckling when Kurt chased his lips with a whimper. Blaine took a moment to appreciate Kurt's just kissed look - his lips swollen, his eyes shining, his cheeks slightly flushed.

"But mostly, I wanted to ask you a question."

Kurt raised an arched brow, surprised that Blaine sounded nervous, holding on to Kurt's hands and closing his eyes.

"I want...I would like..."

Blaine laughed and blew out a quick breath. He looked back at Kurt, his eyes resolute.

"I want to ask you out on a date."

"A _date_?" Kurt said the word like he had never heard the concept before.

"Yes," Blaine said. "An official date. We could go to dinner, a movie, anything you want. I don't care, as long as it's out and it’s with you."

"A date?" Kurt repeated, making sure he had heard Blaine right the first time.

"Yeah." Blaine held Kurt fully in his arms again. "I could take you out in my Mustang..." Blaine nuzzled Kurt's neck. "And then we could find someplace quiet to look up at the stars..." Blaine kissed Kurt's throat. "I could ask you to be my boyfriend..." Blaine nibbled the shell of Kurt's ear. "And maybe you would ask me for another kiss..."

"A date?"

Blaine chuckled, looking at Kurt's expression, which was blank, and his face a little pale.

"Kurt?" Blaine’s smile dropped as he tried to meet Kurt's eyes. "Kurt, are you okay?"

Kurt met Blaine's gaze, his eyes warm like syrup and honey, and his lips, so inviting. Weren't they just on Kurt's skin? Wait, what day was it? And did Blaine say 'date'?

If Kurt could only remember his name and phone number, he could begin to process the fact that Blaine had asked him to go on a...wait, did he say _boyfriend_?

Blaine started to step away, his expression of concern turning into one of disappointment. The loss of sensation was immediate. As soon as Blaine let go of Kurt's hand, Kurt’s body went numb.

Kurt’s eyes snapped at Blaine, and in one bound he launched into Blaine's arms.

"Oh, thank God you're back," Blaine chuckled, wrapping himself around Kurt. "I thought you had gone catatonic for a second...like maybe the thought of going out on a date with me disgusted you."

"What?" Kurt held Blaine at arm's length. "Disgusted by a date with you? You've pretty much been all over me for weeks. Why would a date disgust me?"

Blaine ducked his head, and for the first time Blaine seemed timid.

"I thought maybe you wouldn't want to be seen with me...you know, in public."

Kurt bent to catch Blaine's gaze. When Blaine finally looked at him, Kurt gave him an incredulous smirk.

"You're kidding, right?"

Blaine began to smile again.

"So, is that a yes?"

Kurt nodded, dumbfounded by Blaine’s uncertainty.

"Yes," Kurt said. "Yes, yes, infinitely yes!"

****


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a cute little filler chapter I wrote because I love Nick and Jeff, and they need a storyline of their own. It's short and sweet.

Jeff made the drive from Lima to Westerville at Guinness World Record speeds. He was convinced that cops didn’t pull him over because he was going so fast they couldn’t see him. Had he driven any faster, he would have gone back in time. Once or twice, he thought his engine might actually implode. If Nick had been with him, he would have put a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and told him to slow down in that calm, understated way of his, even though he would have been scared out of his wits.

Say that to any of the other guys, and they would have laughed and driven faster.

But Jeff would have slowed down because Nick had asked him.

He would do anything for Nick.

Nick wasn’t one for fast driving, which was why he didn’t race, but he loved riding in Jeff’s 300ZX with him. The passenger seat of Jeff’s car was reserved mostly for Nick.

Jeff parked his car in the student lot and leapt out, almost forgetting his keys in the ignition. He raced over to the dorms. It was well after dark and Jeff hoped that Nick hadn't gone to sleep yet. He sped through the corridors, peeking into the senior commons along the way just in case, but Nick wasn't there. When he got to their dorm room, Jeff couldn't hear any music (which Nick usually kept on in the background for white noise) and he didn’t see any light underneath the door.

"Shit!" Jeff muttered beneath his breath. He was all wound up. A million and one thoughts raced through his mind and he didn't think he would be able to wait until tomorrow to get them out. As it was, he had no idea how, exactly, he was supposed to tell his best friend of twelve years that he was in love with him.

Jeff sighed, opening the door slowly so he wouldn't wake his roommate, but to Jeff's surprise, he saw the desk lamp on. As Jeff pushed further into the room, he saw Nick sitting on the edge of his bed, iPhone in his hand, his eyes puffy and red as if he had been crying.

Jeff closed the door behind him and rushed into the room at the sight of his upset friend.

"Nicky?" Jeff kneeled at Nick's feet, gazing up into his face.

"Where were you, Jeff?" Nick asked, not looking at him.

"I went to Lima," Jeff said. Nick’s lips tightened.

“You…you weren’t answering your phone.”

"I left it in the glove box,” Jeff admitted, cursing himself for not keeping it on him. “I needed to go see Kurt." Jeff felt Nick stiffen. He put his iPhone down on the desk. "I needed to, uh, ask him a question."

"A question?" Nick looked out the window, not wanting to meet Jeff’s eyes. "What kind of question is so important you have to drive nearly two hours away to ask? Why couldn't you pick up a damn phone?"

"Well, I..." Jeff dropped his gaze to where his hands rested on Nick's knees. "I needed some help with my car, so we fixed it. Together."

"Hummel then, huh?" Nick shifted, knocking Jeff's hands off his knees as he got up to walk to the closet on the other side of the room. He grabbed his duffel bag and started tossing clothes inside. Jeff watched with wide eyes.

"Nicky?" Jeff stood, questioning him quietly. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Hummel," Nick continued, his voice thick as he went to his dresser and stuffed toiletries and socks in the duffel next. "What the hell is it with Hummel? Blaine, Sebastian, _you_? What, are his pants made of fucking gold that everyone wants in them so badly?"

Even though Nick darted around the room, purposefully avoiding Jeff's eyes, Jeff could tell that he had started crying.

"Nick...where are you going?" Jeff put his hands gently on Nick's shoulders, but Nick shrugged them away. He glared back at Jeff, hazel eyes brimming with a fire Jeff had never seen before.

"I'm going to stay in Trent's room for a while," Nick murmured. "I don't know what's going on anymore, but I'm confused...and I need a break..."

"A break?" Jeff chased after Nick as he headed for the door, blocking his way. "A break from what?"

Jeff tried to catch Nick’s gaze, but Nick wouldn't look at him.

He couldn’t.

"Nothing, I guess." Nick reached past Jeff for the doorknob.

Jeff started to panic.

"Please," Jeff pleaded, putting his hands up in surrender, trying to carefully move Nick back into the room. "Please, don't go. Be mad at me if you want to, but please, don't leave."

Nick shook his head.

"No, Jeff. I can't…I can’t stay."

Nick’s cheeks were damp with old and new tears, and his nose red from running. Jeff's heart twisted seeing him this way. This poor boy, the one Jeff had fallen hard for, looked so broken – and he had a part in that. None of the words Jeff had practiced were helping either. They stayed muddled and mixed up inside his head, making absolutely no sense. He wanted to open his mouth and say something smart, something incredible that would convince Nick to stay, but he couldn't pin anything down.

Jeff started to step aside. Nick's face fell even more once he realized that Jeff had stopped fighting. He straightened his back and reached for the doorknob again.

Jeff’s brain couldn’t come up with a plan, so his body acted for him. He surged forward, grabbed Nick's face in his hands, and kissed him. Nick froze, shocked that his best friend would kiss him like this. It was the one thing he had been dreaming of since they had started going to Dalton Academy - longer even. He didn’t know if he should let Jeff kiss him. He was mad at Jeff, but above all that, absolutely and most definitely, Nick was in love with him.

Love was the last conscious thought Nick managed to register because the moment Jeff's tongue swept into his mouth and he felt the hard metal ball of Jeff's piercing run along his own tongue, Nick's mind went blank and his knees buckled. He dropped his duffel bag to loop his arms around Jeff's neck. Jeff had already wrapped his arms around Nick's torso, holding him up. Jeff leaned into the kiss, bending Nick back, one hand snaking up to reach into Nick's dark hair, grabbing and pulling slightly.

When Jeff pulled away, he dared a glance into Nick's face, expecting him to be furious. But Nick was far from that. He was breathless and ecstatic, with a dreamy grin on his face. Jeff sighed, relieved. He bit his lip, his own smile goofy, and Nick chuckled.

"Please tell me I didn't just fuck everything up," Jeff pleaded, though he was far from worried.

Nick shook his head.

"You didn't,” Nick assured him. “But I don't understand. If you’re not into Kurt, what did you go to Lima to ask him?"

Jeff blushed, darting his eyes away.

"I went there for advice on the best way to ask you to be my boyfriend."

Nick closed his eyes and shook his head.

"And that kiss is what you came up with?"

"No." Jeff brushed a stray hair out of Nick's face. "That's what I did to keep you from leaving."

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek while he thought.

"If I threaten to leave again, will you kiss me again?"

Jeff smiled. He brushed his lips against Nick's forehead. He felt a shiver ripple down Nick's back, and suddenly, his entire body came alive.

"You could always ask me," Jeff whispered as he kissed Nick's face gently.

"Jeff...would you kiss me again?"

Jeff rubbed his nose against Nick's. He reached behind his back and locked their door.

"Nick," Jeff said, lips ghosting close to his, "it would be my pleasure."


	19. Chapter 17A-C

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For any NIFF fans, this is the M rated continuation to Chapter 17. This scene was originally listed under 'Need for Speed One-shots' labeled Ch 17A, Ch17B, and Ch17C. Even if you've read it before, I've freshened up the language a bit, so take another peek :)

Nick and Jeff laid side by side on Nick’s bed, Nick’s lips swollen from a hundred kisses – each one a message, an apology, or a promise – _sorry for not telling you how I felt sooner_ … _I promise to make you happy from this day forward_ … _I’m so happy we’re here together_. Jeff held Nick’s hand, twining their fingers together, enjoying the feeling of Nick’s soft palm sliding against his rough, calloused skin.

Nick ran gentle fingertips down Jeff’s cheek, needing a reminder that this was real. Jeff turned his face and kissed Nick’s fingers, smiling when Nick gasped at the touch of his lips against his skin. Jeff had been Nick’s best friend for as long as he could remember. Nick thought a lot about the day they met. It was one of his favorite memories. They were just children, but Nick, in his own way, had fallen in love with Jeff, without understanding or reservation.

Nick’s feelings for Jeff had always been complicated. Jeff was such an easy going guy. Everybody got along with Jeff, even the so-called super cool, popular kids, and yet Jeff picked Nick, first and foremost, over everyone else. Nick loved Jeff, admired Jeff, was often extremely jealous of Jeff. It never dawned on Nick that Jeff might actually like him as more than a friend. He had seen Jeff with girlfriends before, endured watching them hold each other, watching them whisper sweetly and privately…watching them kiss.

It killed Nick to watch Jeff kiss someone else, but Nick thought Jeff had to be an incredible kisser.

Nick bit his lip, thinking that yes, Jeff _was_ an incredible kisser.

“What are you thinking, Nicky?” Jeff asked, taking Nick’s hand in his and pressing tender kisses into his palm, onto his wrist. Nick trembled at the light contact. No one had ever touched him that way. He had been saving himself for Jeff. Even when he thought holding on to that dream was foolish, he held out hope.

“I…I don’t understand, Jeff,” Nick said. “If you felt this way, why didn’t you ask me out before?”

Jeff sighed, closing his eyes in thought as he breathed against Nick’s skin.

“I wish things were different,” Jeff confessed. “I wish I had more than just myself to give you.”

“You know things like that don’t matter to me,” Nick said, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and holding him closer. “This is all I want…just you and me together. Besides, if that’s the case, then I don’t actually have anything to give you, either. If my parents ever find out about us, they’d probably pull my trust fund…or worse.”

Jeff swallowed hard. He knew exactly what ‘worse’ meant. It was no secret that Nick’s parents were extremely homophobic. They had always been suspicious of Nick and Jeff’s enduring friendship, and regardless of Nick’s constant reassurances that they were only friends, Nick had been threatened on numerous occasions.

Nick knew _exactly_ what was waiting for him if his parents ever found out about Jeff.

The Christian gay-to-straight conversion camp they had picked out was one of the strictest in the country.

“You _did_ get my first kiss, though,” Nick said, placing a bashful peck to the hollow of Jeff’s throat.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have that to give you,” Jeff said with a regretful sigh.

“Don’t,” Nick said. “Don’t be sorry. You’re here with me now. That’s all that matters to me.”

Jeff toyed with the piercing in his tongue as he considered Nick’s words. His fingers traced little circles around Nick’s shoulder as he fought for the courage to continue.

“I really only have one thing that’s mine to give.” Jeff looked deep into Nick’s whiskey-colored eyes. “I kind of think of it as a gift…and I’m hoping you’ll accept it.”

Nick stared into Jeff’s open and honest face, his brow furrowed in confusion. Jeff’s warm, innocent eyes suddenly looked sinful and wanting, and Nick immediately understood.

“You…you mean…” he stammered. “But, I thought…with Victoria, at least.”

A mental image of the girl considered the belle of Crawford Country Day sprang vividly to mind. Even by Nick’s exacting standards, Victoria LaFontaine was the epitome of a classic, Renaissance beauty – silky, honey blonde hair, a bow shaped mouth, perfectly plump lips, and blessedly developed for a girl of sixteen. But Victoria wasn’t only beautiful. The thing that had struck Nick most was how enamored she had been with Jeff, how close they seemed, how they complimented one another. They made an undeniable match. Nick had been certain that for the year Jeff dated her, he had lost his beloved Jeff to his true soul mate.

Jeff chuckled.

“I know that’s what you thought, but no…and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth.” Jeff turned fully on his side to face Nick. “So, how about it, Nicky?” Jeff’s voice dropped a bit, his whisper a velvet caress over Nick’s suddenly heated skin. “Do you want to be with me?”

Nick, overwhelmed in the face of what Jeff was offering, tried to diffuse the tension through humor.

“Would it be tacky to say I bought you the same gift?” Nick asked.

Jeff laughed, inching closer, bringing Nick’s body in tighter with the pull of his arm around Nick’s waist.

“No, Nick,” he said, lips hovering just out of Nick’s reach. “In fact, I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re beautiful…and I want to remember tonight for the rest of my life…”

Nick waited, the moment suspended between them as Jeff’s deep chocolate-brown eyes gazed into his, locking them intimately together. Every breath from Jeff’s mouth tickled Nick’s lips, fanning the fire that had started to grow in Nick’s body. He wanted Jeff, but he didn’t know how to tell him. Nick’s mind worked around words he didn’t speak. His restless hands flexed in the air, reaching for Jeff but grabbing hold of nothing.

Jeff watched Nick, making no move toward him. Nick couldn’t imagine what Jeff wanted, what _he_ was waiting for. Jeff’s eyes flicked down to Nick’s lips, and then back up to his eyes.

“You have to decide, Nicky,” Jeff whispered. “You have to come to me.”

Nick didn’t wait any longer. He closed the distance of barely a breath, claiming Jeff’s lips, crashing into him with the momentum of time, of years spent pining and waiting and dreaming of this exact moment. This time when he kissed Jeff, knowing what would most likely come next sent an incredible rush through him. It started from the point where Jeff’s tongue piercing brushed against Nick’s tongue and shot out like a firework in all directions, lighting Nick up from the inside, sending sparks racing throughout every nerve.

That touch of Jeff’s lips against Nick’s was the catalyst that crumbled every barrier in Nick’s head. Nick pulled Jeff on top of him, quickly stripping off Jeff’s denim jacket and tossing it to the floor. His fingers grabbed for the hem of Jeff’s Henley, pulling it up his torso and trying to force it over his head without breaking their kiss.

Jeff chuckled as he broke away from his eager boyfriend.                        

“Hold on, Nicky,” Jeff said with a laugh. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jeff slipped the shirt over his head while Nick watched, and when the light from the moon outside washed over Jeff’s kneeling form, Nick’s heart stopped.

Nick had seen Jeff shirtless tons of times, but this was different. This was Jeff - his _boyfriend_ Jeff - straddling his hips, looking down on him with his disarming boyish grin and lust-filled eyes. Nick took this opportunity to truly appreciate the flat planes and sculpted muscles of Jeff’s chest and stomach, and Jeff let him – let him take in his fill, preening a bit at Nick’s open-mouthed expression of awe, feeling himself get harder with every sweep of Nick’s eyes.

Nick reached out a trembling hand to run his fingertips over Jeff’s skin, but stopped himself an inch away from Jeff’s abs. There was still a part of Nick that thought this might all be a vivid dream, and if he tried to make contact with Jeff, tried to feel him, the spell would break and he would find himself in bed alone, still clutching his phone, waiting for Jeff to return from wherever he had run off to.

Jeff seemed to understand Nick’s hesitation. He always seemed to know what strange thoughts ran through Nick’s mind. He grabbed Nick’s wrist and pulled it forward, resting Nick’s hand on his stomach. Nick sucked in a sharp breath. Jeff moved Nick’s hand slowly over his body, using his fingertips to outline his muscles, to trace the definition of his chest. He leaned over Nick’s body to accommodate the reach of his arm. Finally, he brought his boyfriend’s hand to settle over the aching bulge in his jeans. He pressed against it, palming his own cock with Nick’s hand.

“See, Nicky,” Jeff said, his voice cracking as Nick became bolder and wrapped his fingers around him. “You can touch me. I _want_ you to touch me…all you want. I’m yours. Every part of me belongs to you.”

Nick swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room, but he didn’t have time to feel self-conscious when he had Jeff in his hands, and those darkening eyes still locked on his.

Jeff gently kissed away the look of shock on Nick’s face, humming against Nick’s lips, moaning into his mouth at the feeling of Nick’s hand touching him.

Jeff reached for the hem of Nick’s shirt, dragging the fabric over his skin. When Jeff started pulling away, sliding the shirt over Nick’s shoulders, Nick startled, grabbing for Jeff’s hands to stop him.

“Why not, Nick?” Jeff asked, frowning slightly. “I want to see my beautiful boyfriend.”

Nick sighed.

“I’m not beautiful,” he said, turning his face away, hoping Jeff didn’t see him blush with embarrassment. Jeff captured Nick’s chin with his fingers and turned his head, leaning down to kiss the tip of Nick’s nose.

“Of course you are, Nick,” Jeff said softly. “You’re the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen.”

Nick’s hands shook as he dropped them to his sides, his eyes giving Jeff permission to continue. He did, pulling the shirt up Nick’s shoulders, slipping it over his head, and then tossing it carelessly to the floor. Nick watched Jeff closely for any clues, any evidence that he might change his mind and reject him, but Jeff smiled as he gazed down on Nick’s smooth, pale skin, running his fingers appreciatively over his exposed chest.

“There’s my Nicky,” Jeff said. “My handsome boyfriend.”

Nick’s breath hitched in his throat as Jeff’s fingers danced along his sternum, moving lower, lower, reaching for the waist band of his pants. It was almost too much, the feeling of Jeff’s fingers trailing down his skin, the look of love with a hint of lust shining down on him from Jeff’s eyes. Jeff took his time exploring his boyfriend’s body, but also waiting for any possible objections, indications that Nick wanted to stop.

Nick fought hard to stamp down his self-doubt and his trepidation at the thought of Jeff seeing him completely naked. Jeff had an athletic body – hard from constant training and tan from working on his car shirtless in the sun. He danced like Fred Astaire, and no power in the universe could keep the boy still, so he had an extraordinary physique. Nick was an athlete, too, but his body was a little softer than Jeff’s. Not from lack of trying – it’s just the way Nick was.

Nick hated genetics for giving him the body he had, especially when bodies like Jeff’s existed in the world to make him feel insignificant.

Nick was actually terrified of Jeff seeing him naked, but not only because of his physical flaws. He didn’t know what Jeff would think of seeing his obvious desire, of knowing how much Nick wanted him.

Jeff saw the flash of apprehension on Nick’s face.

“Why don’t I go first?”

Jeff lifted off Nick’s body, stepping off the bed and onto the floor. Nick sat up, mesmerized as Jeff undid the button of his jeans and pulled them down swiftly, kicking them away. Without any shame, he pulled down his briefs.

Nick’s jaw dropped, staring at Jeff’s erect cock, flushed a deep pink and standing against his taut abs. Nick had never seen anything so amazing in his life. Seeing Jeff like this, naked, aroused, his eyes full of unchecked fire, took Nick’s breath away.

“Are you okay?” Jeff asked as he approached the bed.

“Uh…” First, it took a moment for Nick to realize Jeff had asked him a question. Then, he had to remember how to speak. “Uh…I…”

“Yeah?” Jeff’s smile curled his lips, lifting the edges almost completely to his eyes.

Jeff sat beside him, folding his leg casually beneath his body as if he wasn’t hard as a rock and gloriously naked.

“Uh…you’re…I mean…” Nick blushed, stammering like an idiot.

“I think I should maybe say thank you?” Jeff asked, biting his lip, a rosy blush coloring his cheeks.

Nick nodded. Jeff cocked his head, looking Nick up and down.

“Can I undress you now?” Jeff asked, climbing back over Nick’s body.

Nick nodded, his eyes locked on Jeff’s, hoping he wouldn’t chicken out if he had Jeff’s eyes to focus on and didn’t have to watch Jeff pulling down his lounge pants.

Jeff, however, didn’t get the memo. His eyes followed his hands as they tugged Nick’s pants down, gaze fixated on Nick’s growing erection. Jeff didn’t touch, he just looked, observing Nick from every angle like he was investigating something new and fantastic. Nick had to ball his hands into fists to keep from turning his hips away. Then, Jeff pressed a kiss to the head of Nick’s swollen cock, and Nick’s heart raced painfully in his tight ribcage. Nick looked down and saw Jeff’s tongue slip out from between his lips, bathing his shaft with delicate licks. Nick moaned, shoving his fist into his mouth to keep himself quiet.

When Jeff slipped Nick completely into his mouth, Nick was sure he had died and gone to heaven. Jeff gave Nick a few hard sucks, moving from base to head. He pulled off when he felt Nick’s hips buck up.

“Sorry,” Jeff said with a satisfied grin. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

Nick wanted to say something witty, wanted to grant him permission to do that anytime he wanted, but Jeff’s lips were on his and he couldn’t think straight. Jeff’s hands traveled over every inch of bare skin he could reach. Touch and heat consumed Nick’s thoughts. When Jeff wrapped his hand around both their cocks together, stroked, and then moaned in his throat, Nick had to pull away.

Jeff jerked back, his wide brown eyes looking wounded.

“Jeff, baby,” Nick panted, “if you keep doing that, I won’t last long enough for you to make love to me.”

Jeff’s face lit up.

“Baby?” he asked, putting a hand on Nick’s chest.

“Yeah…I’m…”

“I like it,” Jeff admitted. “A lot.” He kissed Nick again, trying to sweep the onset of embarrassment away. “So, you want me to make love to you?”

Nick didn’t want to stutter this answer, so he tried to siphon strength from the passion in Jeff’s eyes.

“Yes, Jeff,” Nick said, sounding sure. “Make love to me?”

“Of course, Nicky. Did…do you want me to finger you?”

Nick _did_ want it, but the idea of Jeff putting his fingers _there_ mortified him. He shook his head.

“Not this time,” Nick said. “Just…go slow, okay?”

Jeff ran to his desk to get a condom and a bottle of lube. He fished through the bottom drawer, beneath several books and papers, a stapler, rulers, erasers, pencils, and what looked like every school supply he owned.

Nick laughed nervously when Jeff bounded back onto the bed, his cock bobbing between his legs as he straddled Nick again, but that laughter turned to awe as Jeff rolled the condom over his own length and covered himself with a generous dollop of lube.

Jeff noticed Nick’s impressed stare and smiled shyly.

“I…may have practiced…once or twice,” Jeff admitted. His gaze flicked up to meet Nick’s rapidly dilating eyes. “Do you want to be on your back or your stomach?”

“Uh…”

Nick turned over without answering. He wanted to make love to Jeff, looking into his eyes, but not this time. He didn’t have the nerve. It didn’t matter so much as long as he was with Jeff – touched by Jeff’s hands, kissed by Jeff’s lips, with Jeff’s voice in his ear, were all he needed.

Jeff entered Nick gradually, but Nick couldn’t help his reaction. As soon as the blunt head of Jeff’s cock breached the ring of muscle at his entrance, Nick’s body went cold as a sheet of ice before the burn set in. He hissed with the pain. He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing at the blankets, balling them in his fists.

“I’m sorry, Nicky,” Jeff said, running his hands over Nick’s back, trying his best to go slow, to soothe the sting. “I’m so sorry.”

Nick didn’t know how to tell Jeff not to be sorry, that he wanted it, he wanted the pain and the burn and everything that went with it, if it meant he got to have Jeff as well, but Nick couldn’t string any words together that made sense. His body went rigid, his mouth bone dry.

“Oh, Nicky.”

He felt Jeff panic, felt him pull out. Nick reached an arm back, grabbing at Jeff’s hip, stilling his movement. He didn’t want Jeff to stop. Yes, it hurt - it hurt like hell, actually - but after the pain came an intense, relaxing pleasure.

“Please,” Nick gasped. “Don’t stop.”

“Are…are you sure?” Jeff’s voice shook with worry.

Nick took a steadying breath and nodded.

“Please, baby,” Nick sighed, regaining his cool. “Please, don’t stop.”

Jeff moved again, full strokes in and out of Nick’s body, but so slowly that the build-up of anticipation became worse than the pain.

“Jeff?” Nick turned his head to look at his boyfriend. Jeff’s hair was plastered to his head with sweat, face red from the effort of hovering above Nick and moving so slow. Jeff’s eyes met Nick’s, and Nick tried his hardest to smile nonchalantly, considering the position he was in.

“What, Nicky?” Jeff asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“It doesn’t hurt now,” Nick reassured him. “Maybe…you could go faster?”

Jeff’s entire body relaxed as he rested more of his weight on Nick, moving faster in and out of his body. The change in speed opened a gate inside Nick. All of his apprehension and doubt slipped away, replaced by heat, pleasure, fullness, and the titillating brush within him that sent shockwaves to every nerve, courtesy of the incredible body of his boyfriend.

Nick moaned, suddenly unashamed of anyone hearing or of what Jeff might think. It simply had to happen. There was no way to stop it.

“Oh, Jeff…” Nick writhed, fists relaxing, hips lifting to meet Jeff’s thrusts. “Oh, Jeff, that’s…that feels so good…”

“Really?” Jeff asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Jeff,” Nick whined. “Yes, yes, yes…”

Jeff chuckled, a thrill of excitement shooting through him at hearing his boyfriend whimper with ecstasy. Jeff held on to Nick’s hips to still his enthusiastic bucks backward and pounded harder, doing his best to give Nick what he wanted. Jeff shifted, trying to get better leverage, and Nick arched his back, losing nearly all his breath.

“There, Jeff!” Nick pleaded. “Just…there…please!”

Jeff wanted to please Nick, wanted Nick to melt at his touch, cum so hard he couldn’t remember his own name. Nick meant so much to him. Every time he thought of Nick, his world felt complete, and anything seemed possible. He had spent so much time loving his best friend from afar that this moment, the two of them together, no matter how spectacular or awkward, awesome or awful, was the culmination of an entire life spent dreaming of the day he would have the confidence to make Nick his.

“Oh, Nicky,” Jeff panted, back sweating, hips stuttering, fingernails digging into Nick’s skin, “my incredible Nicky…”

Jeff’s words slid over Nick, sewing together every fissure in his heart – every time he had to watch Jeff kiss someone else, every time he saw Jeff gaze meaningfully into his girlfriend’s eyes, every whisper, every hug, every touch… The more Jeff moved, the smaller Nick’s world became, until all that existed, all that mattered, started with a single touch – the point of contact where their bodies met - and consumed his everything.

Jeff came hard inside his boyfriend, stars spiraling behind his eyes, and at that exact moment he got his dream come true – Nick coming completely undone and moaning his name. Jeff wrapped an arm beneath Nick’s waist, catching him before he fell completely to the mattress, helping him down on wobbly knees.

Swiftly and discreetly, Jeff tied off the condom and pitched it. He laid beside an exhausted Nick, their naked bodies lying unashamedly side by side, arms tangled, fingers laced together, listening to their ragged breaths fading in the moonlit room.

“Nicky?” Jeff turned to look at Nick’s profile in the silver light.

“Hmm?” Nick asked, floating back to earth from the euphoria of his high.

“Do you love me?” Jeff asked.

Nick met Jeff’s gaze. He answered - not a breath, not a thought wasted.

“I’ve _always_ loved you, Jeff,” Nick admitted.

“Always?” Jeff asked.

“ _Always_ always,” Nick chuckled.

Jeff nodded.

“I’ve always been in love with you, Nicky,” Jeff confessed. “From the moment I first saw you…and for the rest of my life, I’ll always be yours.”

Nick smiled, pressing a kiss to Jeff’s lips, sighing happily. He turned on his side, and Jeff wrapped his arms around him.

“Jeff?” Nick whispered, eyes falling closed. “Would you sleep here with me?”

Jeff kissed Nick’s shoulder.

“Whenever you want, Nicky,” Jeff whispered against Nick’s skin. “Whenever you want.”

 


	20. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-con and brief violence. Here comes the angsty parts...

Kurt was giddy when he left his house to meet Blaine at the shop. He had labored over his outfit the same way he did for his first day of school, only he wanted this ensemble to carry a very different message.

_‘Hello. My name is Kurt Hummel, and I want you to want me.’_

He bit his lip as he looked at his reflection and said those words out loud. Yes, he realized. That’s what he wanted.

In the end, his outfit choice was pretty simple. He wore his favorite black skinny jeans (the ones he secretly thought made his ass look _fantastic_ ), his favorite black button-down McQueen shirt (the impossible-to-find vintage one with the skull motif), and his signature Doc Martens. He was so excited about Blaine seeing him in this outfit, he only just remembered to throw on his peacoat on the way out the door, when the chill air hit him and he shivered down to his shoes. Cold night notwithstanding, he decided to leave his car at home and walk the distance, knowing that wherever they went, they would be going in Blaine's Mustang.

Leaving his car home would ensure that, not that he needed an excuse. Not anymore, and that made Kurt happy beyond belief.

The thought of riding in Blaine’s Mustang gave Kurt such a rush. He couldn’t wait to be surrounded by that sinful smell of those leather seats, the one that seemed to belong to Blaine as much as to his car. Or to get the thunderous boom of that V8 engine underneath his skin and inside his blood. But it was the prospect of what _else_ they could end up doing in that gorgeous car that made Kurt hot beneath his wool coat.

Kurt arrived a little earlier than he intended. He had walked double-time without meaning to, too wound up to take his time and enjoy the stroll. He wanted to be there already, in Blaine’s car, with Blaine beside him. He texted Blaine to let him know that he had arrived, then sat on the edge of a large planter outside and waited. Kurt had his earbuds in his ears, listening to the soundtrack from _Wicked_ (recorded during its Broadway premiere at the Gershwin Theater in 2003), when bright lights pulled up the asphalt road. Kurt shot to his feet like a bullet, expecting Blaine. Of course, Blaine. Who else but Blaine would be there this time of night? But when Kurt saw the car head on, the headlight signature was all wrong. Plus, the roar of the V8 that Kurt loved in Blaine's Mustang was more subdued in the approaching car. Kurt's skin prickled slightly, wary of this late night visitor. At worst he figured it could be Sebastian, stalking the shop, hoping to get Kurt alone. Kurt squinted his eyes against the light and caught sight of a familiar blood-red paint job. He sighed. Not his favorite person in the world, but at least it wasn’t Sebastian. Kurt could deal with single syllable Dave if it meant avoiding the roaming hands of Sebastian Smythe.

But Kurt prayed Blaine would show up soon. Dave still gave Kurt the creeps.

"Hey, Monster." Kurt waved nonchalantly, trying not to think too much of it. Dave didn't get out of his car right away. He stared down at his hands, gripping his steering wheel. Through the cracked car window, Kurt heard the steering wheel creak where Dave twisted it. The prickling on Kurt's skin came back again full force, chilling him beneath his coat. Dave’s mouth moved in silence, as if he was debating something with himself. Then he finally decided to get out of his car, and when Kurt could see him clearly, Kurt froze. Dave's eyes flickered dangerously with that slow burning flame that made Kurt's whole body go numb. "You-you scared me to death." Kurt tried to chuckle, keep the mood light, while in his brain he screamed at himself to run. He knew it would be useless, though. Kurt didn’t assume Dave was fast, but Dave's Charger would run him down in a heartbeat.

Dave advanced on Kurt slowly, and Kurt felt himself backing up, looking for a way out.

"W-was there something that you needed me to do for you?" Kurt babbled. Dave's eyebrows raised, as if he fought with himself to understand Kurt's reaction. "Did you need me to check your p-plugs...or something? ‘Cuz I was just heading home."

In no time, Dave was in front of him, looking down at him with a menacing frown, with Kurt's back pressed up against the wall.

_Trapped. How was he always getting trapped?_

"The other guys," Karofsky said slowly, chewing around every word. "Blaine and Sebastian. You let them...touch you."

Kurt swallowed thickly, heart racing, not liking where this was heading.

"Not Sebastian." Kurt shook his head, his mind whirling, praying that Blaine would show up any minute.

"Why not me?" Dave asked, his face scrunching up a little. "Why don't you like me?"

"Dave..." Kurt's voice shook, but he forced himself to stay calm and talk slowly. "I appreciate that you don't touch me the way Sebastian did. The things he did upset me."

Kurt felt like he was talking to a child - a giant, deadly child.

"What about Blaine?' Dave asked.

What about Blaine? It would be easy to say that Blaine was his boyfriend, to lie to this behemoth, staring him down like he was something to eat. But it wasn't true. Besides, it might upset Dave more. While Kurt thought, frantically trying to come up with some sort of escape, his mouth betrayed him.

"I like him."

Everything stopped. There was no sound in Kurt's ears but the steady _thump-thump-thump_ of his own heart beating. The air suddenly wasn't as cold as it had been a moment ago. In fact, it burned. Everything around him - his skin, his eyes, the inside of his throat. Only then did it register to Kurt that Dave had grabbed him, one hand around his neck and another fisting into his hair, his entire body pinned by Dave's hulking frame up against the wall.

Kurt couldn't move. He was immobile and frightened for his life.

"You like him, but not me, is that it?" Dave growled, his foul breath on Kurt's skin. Kurt turned his head, trying to find clean, cool air to breathe, but it didn't matter, because all the air in his body was being pushed out of his lungs my Dave's massive weight.

"Answer me!" Dave screamed into Kurt's ear, and Kurt was sure his eardrum had come close to bursting.

"N-n-not in that way, D-dave," Kurt managed between quick, panicked breaths.

Dave released his grip on Kurt's neck a bit, shocked by Kurt's admission.

"I'm sorry." Kurt hoped to reach some part of Dave's brain that was sympathetic or compassionate. "I'm really sorry."

Dave was stunned to silence. Kurt looked into Dave's eyes, trying to decipher his thoughts, desperately pleading for Dave to let him go.

_Where the hell was Blaine? Had he forgotten? Had he changed his mind?_

For a moment, Kurt thought he might possibly break free. He moved as far back into the wall as he could manage, and then went for broke. He tried to push Dave aside in an effort to run away, but Dave was unexpectedly fast and grabbed him again, his grip even stronger this time. Dave lifted Kurt up to eye level, and slammed him against the brick.

"You don’t like me? I'll _make_ you like me!" he bellowed. Dave lurched forward, and then his lips were on Kurt's - sloppy, wet, needy, deranged. Kurt screamed into Dave's mouth, hot tears pouring out of his eyes, his mind reeling in horror and disgust.

 _This shouldn't be happening_! Kurt thought, struggling to escape. He tried to think logically, to calm his mind and push past the excruciating _now_ to formulate a plan, but he kept returning to the same frightening thought. He didn't know what was going to happen. He didn’t know how far Dave might go, what he was capable of. When Dave stared at Kurt at the races, seethed at him, watched his every move, Kurt thought Dave hated him – hated him because he was gay. Even if Dave stared because he _wanted_ Kurt, there was still something in his eyes, a hint of loathing, probably for himself, but he was taking it out on Kurt. Would Dave rape him? Right here in the alley behind his dad's shop? If Monster was capable of that kind of evil, how much farther would he go? Would Dave kill him to keep him quiet? Is this where they would find his body tomorrow?

Dead in an alley wasn't the way this was supposed to end - _end_ because Kurt was sure that whatever Dave planned to do, he was most likely going to strangle Kurt to death in the process, intentionally or not. Kurt felt his breath leave him. He kicked and flailed, lashing out with his nails at anything his hands could reach. He raked an inch of skin on Dave’s face, split his lip, even impaled him in the eye, but Dave would not let up. Dave was about a hundred pounds heavier than Kurt, if not more, and he was using every ounce of that weight to crush Kurt.

A flurry of Kurt’s punches connected but had no effect. They seemed to rebound off of Dave like a hard rubber ball on cement. But suddenly, Dave stilled mid-assault and then crumbled, taking Kurt to the ground with him. Kurt froze, but it only took a second for him to realize that one of his flailing limbs must have zeroed in on something important. Dave lay wheezing on the floor with Kurt sprawled out beside him. Kurt sucked in a quick breath, fighting to get air into his deflated lungs.

Kurt's mind became a jumble of heated emotions - angry at Blaine for not showing up, angry at himself for not driving here and waiting in his car, angry at his dad for moving to Lima to begin with. They circulated and changed, bouncing between terror and fury, until all at once they turned into one cohesive thought, pared down into a single word - _RUN!_

Kurt pushed off the floor, the world listing and twirling the minute he got to his feet, and forced himself to run. His feet pounded the pavement as he propelled himself forward, straining his ears in search of the sound of pursuing footsteps.

He ran about seven blocks, but he didn’t hear anything - no footsteps pursuing him, no breathing down his neck - and he thought he was in the clear. His feet started to slow, his body shaking so hard he couldn’t make it do anything else. He felt cries and screams crowding his throat, not knowing which he wanted to let out first, but a thread of self-preservation silenced both when he heard tires turn in the gravel behind him. A sweep of headlights engulfed him, stopping Kurt dead. He saw his shadow stretch in front of him and knew he was done for. Dave had recovered, made it to his Charger, and had hunted Kurt down.

The car rolled to a stop behind him, and Kurt whimpered softly. He knew he should run, but his muscles locked up. He became paralyzed. He’d had his fair share of bullies, but he’d never been so scared in his life. No one had ever had it out for him like this before. Kurt heard the car door open, but not close, and he felt helpless to do anything but wait for the inevitable, for rough hands to grab him again and drag him bodily into the car. If Monster got Kurt in his car and drove him away from here, Kurt just knew that he’d never be seen again, and yet, that didn’t make his knees bend or his body work.

Kurt heard footsteps and he held his breath, bracing for pain.

"Kurt?" a startled voice, comforting and familiar, came from behind.

"Blaine!" Kurt cried. He turned and found Blaine standing there. Relief overwhelmed him and he fell into Blaine’s arms. Blaine caught Kurt and held him while he sobbed openly into his shoulder.

“Kurt? Honey?” Blaine asked, confused when he felt Kurt shudder. “Kurt? Baby? What’s wrong? Is it your dad?” Blaine tried to look into Kurt's face, but Kurt wouldn’t lift his eyes to look at him.

Blaine looked around, helpless, hoping to find some clue in the street, on the ground, in the air.

"Come on," Blaine said quietly into Kurt's ear. "Kurt? Come on. Let's go now."

Kurt wanted to go with him, but he couldn't will his feet to move. Fear and exhaustion overtook him, and he began to fall swiftly to the ground. Blaine hoisted Kurt up in his arms and lifted him into the passenger seat of his Mustang. As Blaine buckled him in, he took in Kurt's appearance for the first time and gasped. Beneath the dim interior light, Blaine could make out Kurt's torn coat, the dirt and leaves clinging to his skin and littering his hair, the angry scratches on his face, deep purpling underneath his eyes, and large, thick marks on his neck that looked frighteningly like fingers.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine breathed, his heart breaking at the savage bruises on Kurt's alabaster skin. “Who did this to you?”

Blaine didn’t need to see anything more to know that Kurt was in terrible danger. He shut the door, then slid across the hood of his car and jumped into the driver's seat. He revved the engine, threw the car into gear, and gunned it, speeding away into the night.


	21. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mention of Kurt's injuries and Blaine talking about his attack at Sadie Hawkins.

Blaine sped rocket fast straight to Kurt's house. He’d considered driving Kurt to the police station, but Kurt looked like he was in shock. Blaine wanted to give Kurt a chance to recover from whatever had happened before he had to answer any questions, maybe talk things over with his dad first. He opted against taking Kurt to the hospital considering Kurt’s current detest of the Lima health care system. Ending up at the hospital might make things worse.

Blaine did his best not to think, not to imagine what horrible thing Kurt had encountered while he waited for Blaine to show up. Blaine had lingered too long putting the finishing touches on what, he had hoped, would be the most memorable evening of Kurt's life. He wanted it to be special. But the shock of finding Kurt stumbling, running, broken...

 _Oh God._ Blaine prayed nothing on Kurt was broken.

Blaine thought Kurt had knocked out cold. He actually saw the moment the light in Kurt's eyes had flickered out and he had succumbed to unconsciousness. But when Blaine pulled into the driveway of Kurt’s house, Kurt sat up straight, frantic.

"No!" Kurt cried. "No! I don't want to be here!"

"Kurt..." Blaine started to argue, but Kurt shook his head vigorously.

"M-my dad's home," Kurt explained, in a hushed whisper as though Burt could hear them through four walls and a car.

"That's good," Blaine assured Kurt, putting a comforting hand on his knee. "We need to tell him what happened to you."

"N-no." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand, squeezing hard, trying to make him understand. "He made dinner for Carole. I don't want them to see me. I don't want to interrupt their..."

Kurt stopped at the word _date_ , because that's where he was supposed to be right now. On a date...with Blaine.

"But, Kurt, the sooner we tell him, the better."

"No, please," Kurt whimpered. "I'll tell him tomorrow. I promise. Just take me somewhere else... _please_?" The last word barely made it passed his lips, his body crumbling in, his hands catching his face as it fell.

Blaine was at a loss as to how to help Kurt, but he pulled out of the driveway quickly and headed out in a different direction - to his own house.

The drive to Blaine's house lasted only a few minutes, mostly because Blaine broke every conceivable speed limit, but the silence that developed inside the car seemed like it would never end. Blaine couldn't imagine the thoughts haunting Kurt while they drove, his face hidden, his body trembling. He hoped Kurt would tell him what happened on the drive, but Kurt didn’t say a word, only hiccupped behind his hands. Blaine wanted to help Kurt. He hated feeling helpless.

Blaine pulled into his driveway and cut the engine, then he hurried out of the car to get Kurt's door. Kurt didn't move to leave the car, his gaze fixed on the windshield, his eyes distant. Blaine lifted Kurt from the seat and helped him stand. With Kurt in his arms, he bumped the door closed with his hip. Blaine saw Kurt dart his eyes around, but Kurt didn't say anything until they got inside.

"Will your mom..."

"My mom isn't here," Blaine reassured Kurt in a soothing, albeit tight, voice. "And even if she was, she wouldn't care."

Blaine helped Kurt up to his room and settled him down on the end of his bed. He shut the door and started switching on his desk lamp, a standing lamp, shooing away the dark with the help of a few compact fluorescents.

"No," Kurt moaned. "Don't. I don't want you to see me."

Blaine abandoned the lights and sat beside Kurt.

"I need to see how bad your injuries are," Blaine said, taking Kurt's hand. Kurt’s knuckles, the ones Blaine always painted with kisses, looked red and swollen, with a crack in the skin between his middle and ring finger that made Blaine wince. "I need to see if anything... _serious_ happened,” he tried to explain without going in to specifics. “Or, do you want me to take you to the hospital?"

Kurt shook his head, his shoulders slumping as he stared at his hand in Blaine's.

"Turn on the lights," Kurt mumbled sadly.

Blaine set Kurt's hand back in his lap. He stood from the bed and walked to the light switch on the wall. He counted to three in his head, and then flipped on the overhead lamp. Soft light flooded the room, and Blaine heard Kurt gasp. Blaine tried to compose himself, wear an infallible expression of calm, but what he saw when he turned around crushed him.

Kurt stared horrified at his own hands, palms scraped, knuckles ragged and torn. Leaf litter and dirt stuck to Kurt's hair, his skin, and his clothes. The sleeve of his coat hung off his shoulder from a tear in the seam. The marks on his neck seemed to have blossomed since Blaine first saw them. As Blaine approached Kurt, he knew for sure those marks were from fingers - massive fingers that had wrapped themselves around Kurt's neck and squeezed the breath out of him.

Blaine kneeled at Kurt's feet, looking up into his face from between his legs. Kurt tried to pull his chapped and split lips into a thin line as he bit back tears, but he only managed a strained grimace.

"Kurt?" Blaine touched his arms without holding, rubbing carefully up and down. "Please. Tell me what happened."

Kurt sniffled, turning his hands over in front of his eyes, looking at the marks and the bruises. He flexed his fingers, hissing at the sore joints.

"It was Dave." Kurt closed his eyes, squeezing them against the memory. "Dave Karofsky. He came to the shop while I was waiting for you. He was looking for me."

Blaine swallowed hard to keep from cursing. He remembered how Dave behaved around Kurt, how he watched Kurt with menace in his eyes, a permanent scowl on his face. Blaine had always kept an eye on Kurt when he had to repair Monster’s Dodge Charger. Blaine had always suspected that Karofsky might try to target Kurt in some way because Kurt was openly gay, but he could have never imagined this.

"That fucking homophobe went to the shop to beat you up?" Blaine's anger overwhelmed him, wiping away his calm facade.

Kurt flinched at the fury in Blaine's voice. He hunched over and dissolved into tears.

"I am so sorry, Kurt." Blaine tried to push gently on Kurt's shoulders, tried to get Kurt to look at him. "I didn't mean..."

"He kissed me," Kurt interrupted through his tears.

His answer brought Blaine up short.

"He _what_?" Blaine couldn't seem to comprehend what Kurt had just said. He shook his head. "But Dave...I don't understand."

"He asked me...why I liked you and not him. He said he was going to make me like him. Then he kissed me."

Kurt curled in on himself. He slid off the bed into Blaine's arms, and Blaine rocked Kurt back and forth. He didn't know what to say. Dave harassing Kurt out of hate made more sense than this. Blaine would have never imagined in a thousand years that Monster was gay.

Blaine wanted to lash out, wanted to hit something, or more specifically someone, but he couldn't. Trapped beneath Kurt's shivering, crying form, he realized that his only responsibility right now was this broken boy...the one he wanted so desperately to have as his boyfriend.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered into his hair. "What do you want to do?"

"I want a shower," Kurt's muffled voice replied.

Blaine sighed. He hoped Kurt would have said, “I want to go to the police,” or “I want to talk to my dad,” but Blaine could understand his want of a shower.

"Alright,” Blaine agreed. “But we have to do something first."

Kurt looked at Blaine, his eyes so different from their usual calming ice blue that they could have been someone else's eyes entirely.

"What?"

"You have to trust me." Blaine tucked a stray hair behind Kurt's ear. "Can you do that? Can you trust me?"

Kurt nodded weakly.

Blaine moved Kurt to the brightest lit corner of his room. He took his cell phone out of his pocket, and using his cell phone camera, photographed Kurt's injuries - his swollen fists, the marks on his neck, his bruised lips. Kurt cried softly, humiliation weighing down on him as Blaine circled around, documenting every tear in his clothes, every black and blue.

Kurt couldn't bear being treated like a victim on a bad cop drama. This was supposed to be the honeymoon period of him and Blaine knowing one another and falling for each other, their chance to show off their best sides before the crazy life stuff came out. But all Blaine had been witness to was Kurt’s inescapable drama.

It didn’t seem fair.

"After I got into that fight at the dance,” Blaine explained to fill the silence, “the cops had someone take pictures of my injuries.” Blaine transferred the photos to a micro SD card and put his phone on his desk. When Blaine returned, Kurt was gazing up at him through long lashes.

"What happened?" Kurt asked. "What happened at that dance?"

Blaine blew out a long breath. He knew Kurt would ask him eventually, and he had no problem telling him, but it meant revisiting something that he’d tried for so long to forget. When Kurt saw his scar, Blaine knew he’d been on the cusp of asking. When Blaine found out Kurt had spent the afternoon with Jeff, Blaine had kind of hoped Jeff would solve that problem for him. But apparently, no luck. Blaine looked at Kurt, eyes shimmering in the low light.

"I thought maybe Jeff had told you," Blaine said, sitting back on the bed. He patted the space beside him and Kurt sat next to him, leaning to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder.

"He thought you should tell me yourself," Kurt remarked, eyes focused on a spot on the floor.

"Jeff's a good guy," Blaine commented. "Are you sure you want to hear this now?"

"Please tell me," Kurt begged.

Blaine searched his memory, trying to find a good place in the whole mess to begin.

"Why don't you tell me what you already know," Blaine said.

"Jeff told me you came out to your parents, and that they didn't take it well. That's why you went to public school and not to Dalton with your friends.

Blaine smiled bitterly.

" _Didn't take it well_ is definitely an understatement." Blaine shifted to put an arm around Kurt, and Kurt leaned over further, putting his head in Blaine's lap. "My dad managed to find the crappiest public school in the district and sent me there. I guess he decided it was a fitting punishment. _He_ couldn't get through to me, so maybe the other kids would. But, I didn't want to stop being me. I didn't want to lie to myself. If I stayed in the closet or denied who I was, then that's what I’d be doing, and I couldn't look at myself in the mirror every day if I did that."

Blaine ran his fingers lightly over Kurt's hair and his cheek, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away Kurt's tears, and a few smudges of dirt so that he could see his gorgeous boy.

"Anyway, there was a Sadie Hawkins dance at school and I took a chance, to show everyone that no matter what, I was always going to be me. I asked the only other gay boy in school, and we went as friends. We hoped that by standing up for ourselves we might make a difference."

He stopped when he noticed a fresh well of tears spill down Kurt's cheeks. Kurt knew what was coming next. He’d seen the scar, and it looked bad. He just didn't know how bad _bad_ was.

"They jumped us while we were waiting for our ride." Blaine tried to stem the onslaught of Kurt's tears, but eventually he had to give up and let them fall. "A group of jocks actually waited outside for nearly the entire dance just to get us when we got out. There were three of them and two of us. They beat the living shit out of us, knocked me flat on the pavement. One guy had a broken beer bottle or something. That's how I got the scar."

Kurt nodded, a tiny movement of his head asking Blaine to continue.

"When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to machines, police officers everywhere, and my parents...I remember thinking that they looked incredibly pissed, and I was glad. I was glad they were pissed, because that meant that they loved me, and they would fight for me. It meant that they saw this for what it was – a hate crime, perpetrated against their son. As it turned out, they were only pissed at _me_."

Blaine had to look away from Kurt to gather his thoughts. He hadn't talked about this in a while, and with the exception of a few odd nightmares, he was sure he had moved passed it. Now, here it was, the old feelings of grief, shame, and worthlessness, but not because someone threatened _him_.

Because he couldn't protect the boy he loved.

That's when Blaine realized that this feeling, this need, this want to have Kurt with him always – that’s what this was.

It was love.

"Then what?" Kurt prompted.

Blaine turned back to Kurt.

"The police told my parents what to do if they wanted to press charges, but they said no. My dad said it was my fault. I provoked the bullies. By going to the dance with another boy, I was _asking_ for trouble."

Kurt couldn't take anymore. He couldn't listen to this, this hate against this beautiful, amazing, generous, incredible boy that Kurt had fallen so hard in love with. Because this feeling of pain in his chest, the one that replaced any pain he had for his own predicament, the one that told him that, come what may, he would do anything in the world for Blaine, to keep him happy and safe and feeling wanted every day for the rest of his life...it was all love.

He had turned his face further into Blaine's lap, turned away so Blaine wouldn't have to see him cry anymore.

"No more," he whispered against Blaine's legs. "Please, no more."

"I'm so sorry, Kurt." Blaine couldn’t wrap his arms around Kurt at this angle, and he wanted to hold Kurt - wanted to find some other way to comfort him than this. But all he could do was sit quietly and let Kurt cry.

Kurt didn't know how long he cried, didn't know when he stopped, or when Blaine had managed to coax him into the shower. Kurt didn’t know if he’d undressed himself, or if Blaine had done it for him. But he blinked his eyes and he was alone, standing under the spray, turning up the heat to let the water scald his skin. He scrubbed at his skin with a bar of soap, not even able to enjoy covering himself in that intoxicating scent that Blaine wore every day. Kurt scrubbed and scrubbed until the bar broke in half and slipped from his fingers. Then he scratched at his skin, the hot water stinging at the marks until he simply went numb. When he could no longer feel his own fingers on his skin, he smacked his hands up against the tile wall, once, twice, and then over and over until he was beating out an uneven rhythm with his fists, which did nothing to cover up the sobs that would not stop, no matter what he did.

Blaine slid down the bathroom door and sank his head in his hands when he heard his precious boy crying, hating himself for being so fucking useless. Blaine _had_ to do something, so while Kurt showered, Blaine gathered together clothes and a towel, and left them on the sink for Kurt. It was lame and pathetic, but it was all Blaine had the power to do.

Kurt stayed in the shower until the water ran cold...and then stayed in a little longer. Blaine changed into his nighttime clothes, his romantic plans for the evening long since forgotten. Unable to sit still or feel at peace with Kurt in pain, Blaine paced the floor, waiting for Kurt to come out.

The shower water stopped running, and Blaine stopped pacing, staring at the closed door, waiting for Kurt. The door finally clicked open, and there Kurt stood in Blaine's t-shirt and sweats. Even after listening to Kurt’s sobs, the way they’d dug into Blaine’s body and coiled around his heart, squeezing until he thought the stupid thing would burst, Blaine couldn't help smiling. And seeing Blaine smile made Kurt’s sheepish grin appear.

"What?" Kurt said.

"I kind of like this," Blaine said, taking Kurt’s hand, trembling from too much time spent in the cold water, and pulled him over to the bed. He threw back the covers and climbed in, drawing Kurt down beside him.

"Kind of like _what_?" Kurt asked.

"My boyfriend wearing my clothes." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's body, bringing the blanket over them.

"You...you still want to be my boyfriend?" Kurt asked.

"Well, I did have a more romantic way of asking you planned" - Blaine kissed Kurt's head, burying his nose in his damp hair, taking advantage of the lack of product to enjoy the strands tickling his cheek - "but right now, I can't think of anything else I want more." Blaine kissed Kurt's temple, running a hand up and down his back beneath his shirt, fingers dancing in circles over his smooth skin. "Is that what _you_ want?"

“Yes,” Kurt said. "Among other things."

Kurt turned in Blaine’s arms. He climbed up Blaine's body, placing slow kisses, some dry and chaste, some open mouthed, along the column of Blaine's neck. Blaine felt his whole body stirring. The stress of the evening, the shock of finding Kurt injured, the pain of reliving the worst night of his life, melted away under the attentions of his boyfriend's mouth.

"What do you want?" Blaine whispered, sliding his fingertips over Kurt's skin, down his cheek, ghosting over the bruises on his neck. Kurt reached Blaine's face, eyes closed, and lightly rubbed their noses together. Blaine traced the outline of Kurt's lips with his index finger.

"Kiss me?" Kurt asked, opening eyes glistening with unshed tears. They locked on to Blaine's, innocent, but with such fire that Blaine's breath hitched in his throat

A needy whine escaped the back of Blaine’s throat. "Ask me again?"

"Kiss me, Blaine?" Kurt asked, curling a hand into Blaine's shirt, tugging Blaine to meet his lips. "Make me forget everything but the moment you asked me to be your boyfriend. And then, just for tonight, we can go from there. There doesn't have to be a Dave and there doesn't have to be a dance. Just you and me."

Blaine moaned softly as he closed the distance, claiming Kurt's lips with his own, moving against his mouth as if he had done this with Kurt a thousand times. They fit perfectly together, like they were made to be with each other and only each other this way.

Tears rolled down Kurt’s cheeks. Blaine felt them clinging to his boyfriend’s skin and broke away.

"Don't cry, love," Blaine whispered. "Please, don't cry."

Blaine kissed Kurt's tears away, each and every one as they fell new from his eyes. He kissed Kurt until Kurt became breathless, caught in the dizzying euphoria of being kissed. He kissed down Kurt's cheeks, over every scratch and every bruise, murmuring apologies against Kurt's wounds - apologizing for being late, apologizing for not protecting Kurt, apologizing for Kurt's pain, apologizing for someone so evil existing in the world that they would hunt Kurt down and try to hurt him. He kissed the finger shaped marks on Kurt's neck, which showed up vividly dark because of the heat of the shower. Blaine pulled off Kurt's shirt, sliding the fabric over Kurt's shoulders and down his arms. Blaine’s eyes skimmed over Kurt's exposed chest, his skin littered with stunted red marks, fresh scratches, and new purple bruises.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine moaned, realizing what Kurt had done in his attempt to scrub every inch of Monster away.

Kurt tried to cover them, but Blaine wouldn’t let him, catching his wrist and starting a trail of kisses there. Blaine's kisses traveled up Kurt's left arm from his knuckles to his shoulder, across his collar bone, stopping for a moment to lick slowly at the hollow of his neck, and then across to the right shoulder. Blaine felt Kurt begin to relax beneath his lips, his skin prickling slightly with goosebumps. When Blaine pressed his lips firmly to the bend of Kurt's arm and started to suck, Kurt moaned out loud.

Blaine kissed Kurt until Kurt drifted off to sleep, then he stayed up a little longer, carding his fingers through Kurt's hair until sleep took him, too.

Across town, in the Hummel house, Burt Hummel woke up for the seventh time to use the bathroom, cursing his new medication, to discover that his teenage son had not come home.

 


	22. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: in trying to keep in canon with the Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift movie, I made Burt a little less like Kurt's infamous super dad, and made him a little more distant and less attentive to his son's problems. And a warning for talk of the attack on Kurt, nightmares, and dad's reoccurring illness.

Kurt woke up in a panic – thrashing, choking, sweating, the last remnants of his nightmare fading with the rising sun, and the gentle massaging of Blaine's fingertips on his scalp.

"Shhh" - Blaine's whispers followed his fingers, trying to soothe away the anxiety-fueled dreams - "You were having a nightmare, baby. Do you remember?"

Kurt's mouth work around air but he couldn’t say a word, his voice screamed away, his throat raw, aching from being squeezed. Kurt whimpered and nodded, resting his head against Blaine's chest, concentrating on Blaine's body as he breathed, the movement of his chest, the calming _thump-thump-thump_ of his heart.

Blaine listened as Kurt's breathing slowed, and he finally returned to a place of comfort. Blaine breathed with him, matching the pace of his long inhales in and exhales out. Blaine had been up for hours already, his mind working too loudly for him to get much sleep. He hated the thought of pulling Kurt from his temporary peace to join him in reality, but they had to get started. The sooner they pressed charges against Dave, the better.

But there was one person they needed to talk to first.

"We have to go talk to your dad, love," Blaine said.

Kurt shook his head. "I…I don't think I can. I don't want him to think..."

"Don't want him to think what?" Blaine asked. He coaxed Kurt's eyes up. "Do you think this is your fault?"

Kurt couldn't answer, his heart and his head conflicted with different variations of the truth. But he didn't need to say anything to Blaine, his silence as much of an answer as his words.

"Kurt, you didn't do _anything_ to make Dave do this to you,” Blaine insisted. “You didn't deserve it. Your father will understand. He's one of the good guys, remember?"

Kurt sighed. "I just don't want him to be disappointed in me."

Blaine sat up, taking Kurt with him.

"Don't you think your father would be _more_ disappointed in you if you let Dave get away with it? If you didn't keep him from doing this to you again” – Blaine paused, biting back a sudden rush of bile – “or to someone else?"

Kurt thought about it, gaze focused on Blaine's eyes while his head spun between _yes_ and _no_.

"Look," Blaine said, kissing Kurt’s forehead. "I'll be right there with you. I promise."

Kurt nodded, returning Blaine's soft kiss but to his lips, really not eager to leave.

"Alright," Kurt said as Blaine backed away, smiling when Kurt attempted to deepen the kiss and prolong their stay. "Let's get this over with."

***

Kurt and Blaine got up, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. Kurt barely ate a bite, his appetite so far gone that he couldn’t even get his body to swallow the delicious eggs and pancakes Blaine made. All through breakfast, and then on the drive to his house, Kurt tried to formulate a plan for how he was going to tell his father about Dave. He wanted to ease his dad into the details of the attack, not do or say anything that would put stress on his heart, but at this point, he wasn't even sure how he was going to get past _hello_ , especially when he had been out all night, and couldn't even bring himself to call.

Too soon for Kurt, they pulled into the driveway. Blaine parked behind Kurt’s Eclipse and cut the engine. Kurt was half-tempted to ask Blaine to fire her back up and take him on a loop of Lima, to give him some more time to think. But Blaine could drive him around for hours, and Kurt wouldn’t be any more prepared to talk to his dad than he was. He just wanted this to be over.

"Wow," Kurt said with a small smile. “Deja vu, huh?"

"Yeah” - Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt on the cheek – “except last time we were here, I couldn't call you my boyfriend."

"Well, you _could_ have,” Kurt said. “I don't think I would have minded."

Kurt and Blaine stepped out of the car and walked to the front door. Blaine took Kurt's hands in his and squeezed them gently.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I think I am."

Kurt pulled his key from his pocket and stuck it in the lock, but the door flew open, and there stood Burt, fuming in a way Kurt had never seen before.

"You two," Burt said, eyeing both boys, "get in here."

Kurt pulled Blaine behind him inside the house. Burt shut the door hard, and Kurt jumped. Blaine put a hand to the small of Kurt's back, rubbing soothing circles. Slamming doors didn’t bother Blaine much. That was par for the course in the Anderson house.

"Dad,” Kurt started, “I..."

"Where the hell have you been?" Burt cut him off, not giving Kurt a chance to finish.

Kurt took a deep breath, ready to plunge into the whole story. "I told you last night, I was going out with Blaine."

"I _assumed_ you were with him, because you left last night to meet him. But your car was parked outside all night, you didn’t call me once, and here you come home at ten in the damn morning, dressed in _his_ clothes. So now you're going to tell me what's going on."

"I'm trying to tell you, dad," Kurt said. He knew his dad would be upset, but he didn't understand how this could spiral so completely and utterly out of control. He had stalled for so long, not knowing what he would say. Now that he was here, he desperately wanted to tell his father everything, wanted to tell him how scared he felt, how he thought he was going to die and never see him again. But for as much as his father demanded an explanation, he didn't seem ready to listen.

Suddenly, Burt's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped as he finally looked past the clothes and took in his son's appearance.

"What the hell happened to you?" Burt roared, glaring at the marks on Kurt’s neck, the volume of his voice soaring till Kurt was certain the whole neighborhood had heard. Kurt felt cornered. He turned to look at Blaine, his eyes pleading for help, but Burt grabbed Kurt’s arm and yanked his son away.

"Did _you_ do this to him?" Burt demanded, pushing Kurt aside and focusing on his boyfriend. Blaine took a step back, his hands raised.

"No, sir,” Blaine said, adamant of that fact. "I would _never_ hurt Kurt."

"Dad, please." Kurt wrapped his hands around his father's arm, trying to make him listen. "Dad, let me explain."

Burt turned on Kurt, furious.

"Did you two…you and him…are you still..."

Burt didn't finish the question, but Kurt knew what his dad was asking. Blaine knew, too, and he knew the answer, but Kurt was mortified anyway. He pleaded with saucer-wide eyes for his father to stop, praying he would just drop it, that he would infer the answer from Kurt's look of shock.

But he didn't.

"Kurt,” Burt growled, “answer me. I'm asking you if..."

"Oh my God!" Kurt's neck tensed as he looked up at the ceiling, his eyes hot with tears, his whole body shaking from humiliation. "Yes, dad! I'm still a virgin!"

Kurt ran a hand through his hair, praying that any minute a huge hole would open up in the floor and suck him down into it. He chanced a look at Blaine, who looked aggravatingly sympathetic.

Pity. Jesus Christ! That’s the last thing Kurt wanted from Blaine.

"Kurt..." Blaine started.

"No." Burt pointed a finger at Blaine. "No, you don't talk to him. I think you should go."

"Dad!" Kurt screamed.

"No, Kurt." Burt turned to his son. "Look, I've ignored your behavior long enough because I knew you were miserable here, alright? But, you're out all night, you come home late, and I know you're with _this_ guy…"

"Dad," Kurt warned, "don't," but Burt ignored his son.

"Look,” Burt said, addressing Blaine, “you seem like a good kid for the most part. But I think maybe you and my son are going a little too fast."

Blaine nodded. He wasn’t accepting Burt’s opinion as final, but he wasn’t going to disrespect him by talking back.

"I think I should go," Blaine said with a sad smile. "See you later, gorgeous."

The panic from Kurt’s nightmare that morning reared up. A feeling of separation, of being abandoned, and something inside of Kurt snapped.

"No!" Kurt screamed in a hoarse voice. "No!" He threw himself between his dad and Blaine, grabbing Blaine's hand to force him to stay. "I am sick and tired of you planning my life for me, dad! Everything...EVERYTHING was decided by you, without asking me! The move, the house, the shop, my school, _you_ picked it all out! _You_ decided! But I've had enough! Dad, I was attacked last night!"

Burt had opened his mouth to argue, but he stopped, his face immediately white.

"W-what?" Burt looked as lost as Blaine had hours before...as helpless as Blaine still felt.

"I...I was walking to the shop...to meet Blaine for our date,” Kurt stammered, “and someone attacked me."

"Kurt..." Burt said, not knowing what to say after that.

"And Blaine took care of me,” Kurt barreled on. “He wanted me to talk to you last night, or go to the police, or to the hospital. _He_ was the one with all the responsible ideas, and me...I just wanted to sleep and forget anything ever happened."

Burt approached his son, reached out to take his hand, but Kurt pulled it away.

"I didn't call last night because I wasn't ready to talk to you. I wasn't ready for your disappointment, or your pity. I didn't know how to tell you that some big hulking maniac beat me up and _kissed_ me!"

“Kurt,” Burt said, sounding slightly accusing, “you know you can tell me anything. You can always talk to me. How many times have I told you that?”

Kurt opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut, teeth digging in to his tongue. He had to stop himself before he said something he couldn't take back.

"No,” he said, throwing his hands in the air. “I can't…I can’t do this right now." He pulled Blaine, stunned into silence, toward the door.

"Kurt!" Burt trailed after them, watching as his son walked out of his house to the Mustang in the driveway and opened the passenger door. "Kurt, we need to talk about this!"

"No, dad!" Kurt gripped the car door for support. " _I've_ been talking. _You_ haven't been listening. And now I'm done!"

Kurt didn't look at his dad as he slid into the seat and buckled his safety belt. Blaine sat beside him, gripping the steering wheel, gazing over it at Burt's hurt and confused face.

"Are you _sure_ this is what you want?" Blaine asked, turning to face his boyfriend, but Kurt stared out the passenger window, looking pointedly at nothing.

"Can we please just go?"

“Sure,” Blaine said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Your place?” Kurt asked.

Blaine started the engine. “As you wish.” He pulled out of the driveway and drove Kurt away, rolling through the stop sign at the end of the street. Burt’s eyes followed Blaine’s car till it sped around the corner, then kept watching, waiting for someone to tell him how to handle the information his son just laid on him.

Hoping his son would eventually come back and give him the opportunity to try.

Kurt stayed at Blaine's house that night. Blaine held Kurt in his arms as they slept, and for once, the world kept quiet and gave them a bit of peace. Kurt felt guilty the next morning, knowing that his dad most likely had to fill in at the shop after Kurt left, and then again the next day, but still, Kurt decided to stay with Blaine, and treat himself to a little time off from his own exasperating existence.

* * *

 

 _Thank God for whoever invented four day weekends_ , Kurt thought.

He’d already spent most of the morning sitting in Blaine's lap, kissing every inch of Blaine's skin he could reach, and touching lightly with his fingertips over the areas he had yet to kiss. Blaine moaning in Kurt's ear was the most delicious sound. Kurt got drunk on it. Became addicted to it. He never wanted that sound to stop.

He intended on spending the afternoon here, the evening, and the next few days, making sure Blaine kept on making it.

“You know” - Blaine fought between kisses to get Kurt to talk to him about the fight he had with his dad – “I'm all for spending the rest of the weekend locked up in here, making out with you, if need be...”

"And need does," Kurt replied, threading his fingers into Blaine's hair. He grabbed a handful and tugged, making Blaine moan more.

"But, don't you think you should go home and talk to your dad?” Blaine murmured. “I mean, I know he went all aggster on us, but he was worried about you, Kurt.” Kurt kissed Blaine deeper, hoping to get him to drop the subject. He thought it worked, especially when he felt Blaine get immensely hard against his ass, felt Blaine’s grip on his back tighten, fingers curling, nails biting into his skin. But the second Kurt came up for air, Blaine started in again. “ _Oh God, Kurt_ … _yes_ … _mmm, darling_ …and then you dropped a pretty heavy bomb on him. I mean, I don’t blame you for how you told him, but he needed the opportunity to process it.”

“Blaine…” Kurt groaned, feeling his erection stutter to a halt.

“He’s your dad, Kurt,” Blaine continued, even as he started palming Kurt’s ass. “And I’ve seen you two together. He really loves you, and you love him. He’ll help you out. You gotta give him the chance.”

"Ugh!" Kurt exclaimed. He dropped his head, leaning against Blaine's forehead. "Total boner-kill, Blaine! Family angst is _so_ not a turn-on."

“I’m sorry, darling,” Blaine chuckled into Kurt’s lengthy and exasperated sigh. “I just think…”

"I know,” Kurt interrupted, kissing Blaine's lips, “I know. You’re absolutely right. And I promise, I'll go home tomorrow. Just...let's not talk about my dad... _please_?" Kurt brushed his lips lightly against Blaine's, his tongue sweeping over the seam of Blaine's lips, dipping shallowly between, and there came that decadent, sinful noise again as Blaine moaned into Kurt's mouth.

“Alright,” Blaine agreed. “One day of hardcore making out and some serious heavy petting, and then we’ll face the music.”

“We?” Kurt said, wondering if Blaine had made a mistake, caught up in the moment and all their kissing.

“Of course,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt’s chest lightly over his racing heart. “As long as I’m around, you’ll never have to face the hard stuff alone.”

“Promise?”

Blaine smiled. “I promise.”

Kurt lowered his mouth to Blaine’s and kissed his lips tenderly, melting into his lap and that hard-on of his that seemed to have no intention of going away.

“ _Oh God_ , darling,” Blaine moaned, bucking up to meet him. “You definitely are going to kill me.”

Kurt was about to kiss Blaine again when the vibrating buzz of his cell phone demanded his attention.

"Hold that thought," Kurt said, putting a finger up to Blaine’s lips. He fished his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, hoping it would be someone he could blow off.

"It's Carole," Kurt said. Confused, he answered the phone. "Hello?"

Blaine watched Kurt's face as he listened.

"Kurt? Honey?” Blaine heard Carole say. “It's…it’s your dad.”

Blaine couldn't hear the whole conversation, but every so often Carole's sweet and melodic alto came through, and Blaine caught the gist.

"Ischemic arrhythmia...blacked out...caught it in time...fine now...bump on the head…overnight for observation..."

With every word Carole spoke, the smile faded from Kurt's face, and with it, the color.

"Yes…I…I understand…I'll be right there," Kurt said at last. “Thank you for calling.”

Kurt put down his phone, but he didn't move. He didn't have the will. This couldn’t be happening - not here, not again. Wasn’t that what moving to Ohio was all about? To live simpler, cut back on his father’s stress, and make sure that history didn’t repeat itself? Apparently, it didn’t work. Their problems were determined to follow them, wherever they went. But if Kurt stayed where he was, in the safe cocoon of Blaine's arms, maybe, just maybe, his world wouldn't fall apart for a third time.

 


	23. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for Burt being in the hospital and oral sex...oh, yeah ;)

'Right away' didn't happen quite as quickly as Kurt would have liked. He sat in Blaine's lap for a long time before things crashed in on him, and he raced to the bathroom and threw up. Blaine helped him get dressed and into the car, but Kurt didn't remember any of it.  
  
Blaine drove Kurt to the hospital. The hospital itself seemed dead set on keeping them away from Burt. Three nurses sent them to three different floors. One nurse swore up and down that a Burt Hummel had never registered in the hospital. Then, when they located the right room, the nurses wouldn't let Kurt in. Two hours they sat, waiting and not knowing. Of ourse, Carole said his father was fine, but what if he had taken a turn while they were being shuffled uselessly around the hospital? Several times, nurses with crash carts raced by into random rooms, while the ominous sound of a flatlining monitor echoed through the halls.  
Blaine managed to locate Carole, who ushered them right in. It was well past sunset before Kurt got to look at his father. Kurt moved solely on autopilot, stuck in a nightmare he just kept reliving. Carole helped fill in the blanks. His father had blacked out at the shop, but he had come to in the hospital. They put him on the ventilator just to be safe, and they decided to keep him overnight for observation.  
  
Kurt had heard it before. Same speech. Different doctor.  
  
His father rested quietly. He had bags under his eyes, and a contusion where he had hit his head on the floor, but he didn't look any different. He didn't even look sick. Kurt wanted to talk to him, just to hear his voice. Kurt wanted to tell him how sorry he was that they had fought. If he could just go back to that fight, Kurt was certain he could find another way to get his father to listen. Kurt had a million feelings he wanted to express, but he didn't want to wake his dad from a comfortable sleep just to burden him with his own guilt.  
  
Carole put a comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder, but he didn't feel it. It was just another reminder of how he failed. He knew she had been with his dad when Kurt hadn't come home. He couldn't imagine what she must really think of him, what thoughts she might have hidden behind her smile.  
  
He looked at his dad's face, peaceful in sleep, but his mind kept replacing it with the look of anguish and pain he had after they spoke, after Kurt turned his back on him and left.  
  
"This was me," Kurt mumbled, shaking and backing away. "This is because of me. I did this."  
  
"No, honey." Carole's voice offered no comfort. Kurt couldn't take it. The too small room, the too much noise, the sterile smell that always seems to accompany death. As horrible as he felt about doing it, as much as he wished he could be stronger and stay by his father's side all night, he turned and fled from the room. He couldn't stay there. He couldn't sit in the corner, with his dad hooked up to tubes and machines, worrying that he would fall asleep at his bedside and be woken up by some doctor he didn't know telling him his father had passed away overnight.  
  
He had done it once, lived through that fear. He couldn't do it again.  
  
He felt so trapped.  
  
  
Blaine watched Kurt run from the room, but didn't follow after him immediately. He stayed to talk to Carole. She was working the midnight shift, and would be able to call them if anything changed. He hugged her appreciatively, and then left to find his boyfriend.  
  
Kurt hadn't gotten very far.  
  
Blaine found him sitting on a faded waiting room chair at the end of the hall, his cheeks damp where tears had started to fall. Kurt looked up at Blaine with frightened eyes.  
  
"I didn't know how to get out." Kurt's voice cracked as he spoke.  
  
Blaine understood. He held out a hand and Kurt took it.  
  
Blaine had an idea. He drove back to Kurt's house. Kurt's eyes went wide.  
  
"No, Blaine!" Kurt shook his head. "I...I can't stay here. Not after...not without my dad..."  
  
"We're not staying here," Blaine said soothingly. Blaine parked his Mustang and got out, rounding to Kurt's door and opening it. He took Kurt's hand and pulled him over to where Kurt had parked his Eclipse. When Kurt turned to Blaine confused, Blaine smiled and gestured to the car.  
  
"We're going for a little drive." Blaine handed Kurt the keys. Kurt looked them over in his hand as if they were some foreign entity. He unlocked his car, and they climbed inside.  
  
Kurt wrapped his slender fingers around the steering wheel, gripping it tighty. He looked over at Blaine who was busily hunched over his iPhone. Then he sat up, and placed the phone in the dock on Kurt's dashboard with the GPS app open and ready to give directions.  
  
"Where are we going?" Kurt looked at Blaine, his face still blank, his eyes still lost.  
  
Blaine sighed.  
  
"We're going to escape," Blaine said. "Just for a liitle while."  
  
Kurt pulled out of the driveway, and onto the street, following the GPS directions.  
  
Rows of houses faded away to city streets, and street lights twinkled out in their wake as they drove far from the neighborhoods, the cities, and the incorporated areas of Lima.  
  
Blaine took a gamble letting Kurt drive. Kurt's eyes clouded with tears, and Blaine could tell that even as the cool wind blew through the open windows, fanning Kurt's hair and face, that Kurt's mind kept drifting to the sterile white room where his father lay.  
  
Kurt drove very well, even with his distress and anger. He and his car were one as the blue Eclipse, color as startling as Kurt's own eyes, glided along the smooth asphalt, over swells in the road, around tight curves until they climbed steadily up closer to the night and the stars.  
  
Soon the grimace on Kurt's face softened, the lines around his eyes smoothed back into the normal contours of his face, and he looked the way he always looked when Blaine closed his eyes - beautiful, young, and free. The hint of a smile barely escaped the corner of Kurt's lips. Kurt inhaled the sweet, clean, cool air as it rushed through the window, and the light that had fizzled in Kurt's eyes ignited again.

They drove higher until they reached a ledge near the top, and Blaine told Kurt to pull over. Quietly, they left the car, and Blaine lead Kurt towards the edge. They sat side by side, blocked from the view of the road by Kurt's Eclipse, looking over the valley below, blanketed by the night as they faced the horizon.

"So, is this your super-secret thinking spot?" Kurt asked with a side-long glimpse at Blaine.

Blaine scrunched his nose and shook his head. "Nah. I Googled 50 of the most exciting places to go in Lima, Ohio, and came up with this place."

Kurt snickered. 

"Really?" Kurt kept an eye on the skyline. "Where was it on the list?”

"Number two." Blaine picked up a pebble and tossed it, following it with his eyes as it bounced over the edge. "But, really, there were only five things on the list."

"Nice," Kurt said.

"Nah, you caught me," Blaine admitted, tossing a few more pebbles. "This _is_ my super-secret thinking spot. And like all great thinking spots, I stumbled on it by accident one day when I was alone and upset, and looking to escape."

Kurt sighed, his eyes flicking down to his Doc Martens.

"And before you ask - no,” Blaine said, not sure if Kurt was curious but wanting to make things clear in case he was. “I've never brought anyone else up here." Blaine knocked his shoulders into Kurt’s, earning a chuckle, but Kurt’s eyes didn’t move from his shoes.

Blaine gazed over at Kurt and frowned. He shimmied along the ground, and took a seat behind his boyfriend. He put his hands on his shoulders and kneaded with strong fingers.

"I'm sure you know what your boots look like, baby,” Blaine half-teased. “I brought you here to look at the scenery."

Kurt brought his face up slowly and gazed out into the distance, but it just looked black to Kurt. Bleak. He could barely make out the lines of the hills and trees he knew stretched out below. Blaine's hands moved down Kurt’s back and snaked around his chest, holding him tight. He perched his chin on Kurt's shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"I know what you're thinking," Blaine whispered, following Kurt's eye-line out to the distant sky.

"And what is that?" Kurt asked. 

"It's dark, and gloomy, and never ending, and it's never going to be brighter or better..."

Kurt nodded so subtly that had Blaine not been pressed up behind him with their cheeks close, he might not have noticed it.

"The first time I came up here was when my mom and I first moved to Lima," Blaine said, rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's arms. Kurt leaned back and positioned his head onto Blaine's shoulder, listening as Blaine spoke. "We had just moved here. I was still broken, you know, from being beaten up, and scared of leaving the house, but my parents couldn’t care less. My mom was so wrapped up in her own shit, she enrolled me at McKinley and that was that. She didn't wake up to make sure I got to school on time. She didn't care. My presence in her life was...unnecessary." 

Kurt felt tears slip down his cheeks again, but he did his best to hold back. He didn't want Blaine to stop.

"My first day at McKinley, I was ignored, talked about, made fun of...and then, I got a Slushie to the face."

Kurt unwound one arm and wrapped it around Blaine's waist beneath his jacket. He felt Blaine shift positions, and then relax into his embrace.

"That night, I left. I took my mom's car and started driving. I didn't even have a license. I was going... somewhere, nowhere, I don't know where I thought I was going. I guess part of me figured I would just, you know, drive until I ran out of gas, and wherever I ended up, that’s where I’d be. But after a couple of hours and about four panic attacks, I ended up here.” Blaine swept his eyes around, searching the horizon. “I parked, and I sat down, right where we are. I looked out at the horizon, and tried to figure out the best time to..." Blaine's words drifted, and after another sigh, Kurt wasn’t sure they were coming back.

"Best time to what?" Kurt asked, voice shaking with tears.

Blaine looked at Kurt. He captured a few of Kurt's tears on his finger and lifted them to his lips to kiss them away. Then he looked away and swallowed.

"To jump."

Kurt gasped. He almost sat up, but Blaine held him firm.

"I figured I would wait to see one last sunrise, and then I could do it. But when I saw the sun rise and light the sky, how spectacular it was, I began to realize that I was about to throw everything away - my future, my life, and if nothing else, the chance to see one more sunrise, and for what? For people who weren't going to matter in a few years anyhow. Even my parents."

Kurt nodded. It made sense. That was a good way to look at it.

Kurt was glad Blaine found that way.

"So, what did you do?" Kurt asked.

"I took control,” Blaine said. “From that moment, when I decided not to jump, I took control. I went back to school and decided that if I wanted things to change, then I would have to make them change. I became class president, and I fought to make the bullying stop. I made a decision about the direction of my life, and I made it better. And the next time my dad disappointed me and threw me away like I was nobody, it didn't hurt so much, because I knew that I was somebody. Somebody who could be better, make a difference. The best thing was, when I came back, I wasn’t a kicked dog. I could hold my head up high because I had something great to return to. Something I helped create."

Kurt sat up this time to look into Blaine's face. Blaine put a finger beneath Kurt's chin and closed the gap between their lips.

"Now," he whispered, kissing along the contours of Kurt's mouth, "I have so much to look forward to."

Blaine couldn't bring himself to close his eyes when he kissed Kurt this time. He wanted to soak up this moment, the flutter of Kurt's eyelids as they closed, eyelashes soft as butterfly wings settling against his cheeks. Kurt's skin glowed in the god rays of light that had begun to peek over the horizon. Blaine felt blessed to be here, to be trusted with the heart of this angel on earth, and given the opportunity to redeem a hundred and one mistakes in this one moment.

Kurt opened his eyes and ducked his head, slightly embarrassed at knowing that Blaine had been watching him. Kurt noticed the darkness lifting, and turned his face to greet it. 

"I know you feel helpless," Blaine said. "But out there in the distance is your future, Kurt. It will always be there ahead of you, and it's beautiful. Just like that sunrise."

"So what do I do?" Kurt choked out.

"Take back control," Blaine said. "Take back control of your life."

Kurt shook his head. He didn’t disagree with Blaine, he just felt so overwhelmed that it sounded like an impossible task. "I don't know where to start."

Blaine climbed over Kurt's legs until he was sitting in Kurt's lap.

"Start here." Blaine kissed him again. "Start now."

Blaine's lips trailed down Kurt's skin, licking a long stripe along his neck, then back up to tug his earlobe gently. Blaine's nimble fingers undid the buttons of Kurt's jacket, and then the buttons of Kurt's shirt, searching out and fanning over smooth skin. Kurt breathed in quickly, but relaxed into Blaine’s touch.

Blaine's lips settled on the junction of Kurt's neck and his shoulder, and sucked, with swipes of his tongue in between.

Kurt had expected Blaine's lips to continue across his collarbone and meet back up with his mouth, but instead Blaine started a journey down Kurt's chest, lapping at each nipple, and then further down his stomach.

"Blaine..." Kurt moaned, shivering as the breeze touched the wet trail of Blaine's kisses. "What are you..."

"Shhh. Relax," Blaine hushed, kissing Kurt’s skin, stopping occasionally to suck a mark along Kurt's flank. Blaine stopped just above Kurt's waistband, looking up at Kurt with bright, innocent-looking eyes.

"Is this okay?" Blaine asked, dipping his tongue below the waistline of Kurt's jeans.

"God, yes," Kurt moaned, and Blaine laughed. His fingers skimmed over the button fly of Kurt’s jeans, and Kurt suddenly felt a little self-conscious.

"Wh-what do you want me to do?" Kurt asked instead of pushing Blaine away. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to slow his racing heart. 

"Open your eyes, beautiful." Blaine undid one button.

Kurt opened his eyes. "And then?"

"Just look at the horizon." Blaine undid a second button. "Let me make you feel good." Blaine undid the third and fourth button. "Watch the sunrise." 

When Blaine pulled open the last button, Kurt gasped, the rush of cold air against his overheated skin washing over every inch of skin.

"Think about the future." Blaine sighed against Kurt's skin, appreciative of the sight before him. "It's a beautiful thing."

Kurt kept his eyes glued to the horizon, watching the distant hills start to glow with morning sun. The heat from Blaine's mouth against his chilled skin filled him bodily from his feet to his head. Kurt obeyed, and watched the light flood the hillside. When Blaine took Kurt's entire length into his mouth, he fought the urge to close his eyes and throw his head back.

It was the most difficult thing in the world for Kurt not to lie back on the ground and surrender to Blaine's perfect mouth. Hot, relentless, Blaine's tongue swirled around his cock, massaging his skin, licking over the head and traveling back down to the base. Blaine stretched out in front of Kurt, between his legs, and gripped his hips in his hands, keeping him grounded. 

Kurt wanted to watch him, the bobbing of his head as he moved up and down, his shoulders and back flexing beneath his leather jacket as he shifted positions. Blaine hummed and moaned, the vibrations spiraling up Kurt's spine like the vortex of a storm. Blaine worked over the head with light, shallow sucks, and then took Kurt completely until the blunt tip of his cock bumped the back of Blaine's throat. Kurt wanted to give in, to cum with Blaine's name on his lips, but it was also incredibly freeing, in a way, to fight those instincts and maintain control. The sun splayed over the hillside, warming Kurt's exposed skin, and everything it touched exploded with color. Kurt focused on the light, on the warmth, on the good, and he would fall apart when he chose.


	24. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for oral sex and violent flashbacks.

The sun continued to rise, and Kurt finally gave in to the intense pleasure of Blaine's mouth. Lying out on his back, stretched like a cat, Kurt moaned Blaine's name over and over. Kurt ran his fingers through Blaine's curls, tugging gently, warning Blaine that he was about to cum. He didn't expect Blaine to take him as far down his throat as he could, swallowing around the head, coaxing Kurt to finish. The feeling of Blaine devouring him completely was unlike anything he had ever felt.  
  
Kurt had gone quiet. His mouth still formed words, still called out for Blaine, but no sound came out. Kurt's whole body spasmed, almost shoving up into Blaine's mouth had he not held tight to Kurt's hips and kept him pinned to the ground.  
  
Blaine held Kurt down till the spasms subsided, swallowing until Kurt had finished. Blaine smiled, pulling away from his boyfriend, breathing heavy in the cold morning air.  
  
"There." Blaine said, voice a little hoarse but still smooth and sexy nonetheless. "Do you feel any better?"  
  
Blaine buttoned the fly of Kurt's jeans as he looked at his boyfriend, eyes shining, chest rising and falling rapidly, swollen hands flexing against the air as if trying to hold on to the bliss of the last hour, when Blaine had taken Kurt completely apart and then put him back together again.  
  
"I feel...amazing." Kurt looked at Blaine with absolute awe, and then scrunched up his nose as he giggled, face blushing. "Ugh, did that sound as lame to you as it did to me?"  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt, immediately slipping his tongue into Kurt's mouth, letting Kurt taste himself in Blaine's mouth. Kurt moaned.  
  
"I think it's adorable," Blaine said between kisses. "I think you're adorable."  
  
Kurt slipped his hands into Blaine's hair and looked into his eyes sincerely.  
  
"Where did you learn to do that?"  
  
"Ahh." Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt's nose. "I'll never tell. Let's just say that a lot of phallic fruits and vegetables were sacrificed in the making of your orgasm."  
  
Kurt tugged at Blaine's hair playfully as Blaine laughed. Blaine lifted Kurt in the air, spinning around with Kurt in his arms. He stopped and set Kurt back on his feet, running a thoughtful finger along Kurt's jaw line, watching Kurt shut his eyes to concentrate on the feeling.  
  
"We have a lot of things to do today." Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead, hoping that their time together on the hillside would give Kurt enough strength to confront what lay ahead. "Are you ready to go face the world?"  
  
"Yes," Kurt nodded, his smile radiant. "For now. But some day soon you're going  to have to let me return the favor." Then something occurred to Kurt.  
  
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry. Did you...um..."  
  
"Uh..." Blaine looked down bashfully at his shoes. He didn't know how to admit that having his mouth on Kurt, hearing him repeatedly moaning his name, had made him tremendously hard, and that a well-placed hand down his own pants right as Kurt came solved that problem pretty quickly. "It's been...taken care of? Now, that sounded lame."  
  
Kurt looked at Blaine and raised his eye brows.  
  
"Shower?"  
  
Blaine held him, letting Kurt chase his lips and kiss him deeply, tasting himself in the heat of Blaine's mouth one last time before they would have to make their way down the mountain and return to reality.  
  
"Definitely," Blaine whispered when Kurt broke their kiss.  
  
They approached the Eclipse and Kurt yawned.  
  
"Blaine... would you drive?"  
  
Blaine stopped so suddenly he almost fell over. He looked back at Kurt, his face loose with sleep, eyes drooping, expression of trust looking back into Blaine's shocked eyes.  
  
Blaine's heart swelled.  
  
"Of course," Blaine said, catching the keys as Kurt tossed them his way.

  
  
Kurt's car was alot like Kurt. It was beautiful, inside and out, and impeccably maintained. It was sensitive, and the throttle was a little unpredictable. All it needed was a soft touch, and a little love, and it purred like a kitten.  
  
Blaine drove Kurt's car smoothly down the mountainside, while Kurt slept soundly in the passenger seat. The sight alone made Blaine melt, and he vowed to take care of this beautiful car and this even more beautiful man.  
  
They stopped by Kurt's house for some clothes. Kurt was all for the boyfriend look, and button fly jeans proved to have their own erotic charm, but Kurt needed the strength that only an Alexander McQueen sweater and his own favorite skinny jeans could provide. They went back to Blaine's house to shower. This time Kurt made sure to enjoy the smell of Blaine's soap as it slid over his skin, touching his body, imagining all of the other places this soap may have been. Suddenly, the daydream of Blaine with Kurt in the shower of their own apartment crept into his mind, and Kurt stayed in the shower until the water ran cold.  
  
They stopped by the police station to file an official complaint against Dave. Blaine showed the officers the pictures, and Kurt showed them his hands and neck. An officer took Kurt into a room and took pictures of his own. Kurt didn't like being separated from Blaine, didn't like having to relive that horrible night without him by his side, but knowing Blaine was outside the door waiting for him gave him courage. Kurt made a statement, and signed some paperwork. The boys were told that the officers in Lima would have to contact the officers in Westerville to question Dave, and that they would 'let them know'. Kurt's mind bracketed that sentiment. How many times had he heard 'we'll let you know'? He didn't really hold out much hope.  
  
Regardless, Blaine sent a text to Jeff, asking him to keep an eye and let them know if anything happened.  
  
They got to the hospital later in the afternoon. Their trip to the police station seemed to steal all of the energy that Kurt had left. After they parked, It took forever for Blaine to get Kurt awake, and even when he did, he had to help him to his feet and walk with him, one arm wrapped around his waist.  
  
They made it all the way to Burt's room on the sixth floor. The eyes of nurses and doctors followed the pale, exhausted boy, struggling to stay upright in his boyfriend's arms.  
  
Burt, completely awake and eating lunch, eyed Blaine warily when he mostly carried Kurt into the room and sat him down on a chair. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut without saying a word, and he began to snore softly.  
  
Burt looked at his son, and then at the slightly disheveled young man who had brought him in.  
  
"What did you do to my son?" Burt asked, sitting up in the bed and pushing the table with his tray on it away. His voice had none of the anger of the previous day. He even looked slightly amused.  
   
"Nothing...nothing, sir." Blaine held Kurt's hand as he stood beside the sleeping boy. "I think all of the stress of the past few days just caught up with him. We just got back from talking to the police."  
  
He nodded, still looking Blaine up and down cautiously.  
  
"They're letting me out today," Burt said.  
  
"That's great, sir." Blaine still held Kurt's hand, running his thumb over Kurt's knuckles. Burt looked at the gesture, and then back up at Blaine, who had turned his eyes back to Kurt's sleeping face.  
  
"You know," Burt said, "I may have...over reacted when you came over to the house with Kurt the other day." Blaine looked up to see Burt's eyes watching him. "I've been talking with Carole, and she says you're a good kid. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I should have listened to what you and my son had to say."  
  
Burt cleared his throat, looking down at Kurt's sleeping face. He could barely count on one hands the amount of time he had spent more than thirty minutes alone in the same room with his son since they had moved to Lima. Burt knew his son was growing into a man and moving on with his life, but it seemed too soon. He just wanted his sweet little boy back.  
  
Blaine felt like he should say something, but before he could come up with something, Burt continued.  
  
"You know, Anderson, Kurt's all I have left since his mom died. He's the most important person in the world to me. So if you guys are dating, I expect you to take care of him."  
  
Blaine could feel there was more to Burt's statement than just 'hurt my son and I'll kill you'. In a way, it sounded like 'please promise me you'll be there if I can't'.  
  
"I promise," Blaine said, finding the words he was looking for, "I'll be here for him as long as he'll have me."  
  
Burt nodded, seeming content with Blaine's answer.  
  
Carole walked in, surprisingly chipper for just having worked overnight with her boyfriend stuck in the hospital.  
  
"Hey, Blaine." She pecked him quickly on the cheek. She glanced down at Kurt, asleep in the chair.  
  
"Poor thing." She put a hand to his cheek.  
  
"He wanted to be here," Blaine said as she stood and looked him over. "But he's so tired."  
  
"Well," Carole said, looking over at Burt, "we're going to have to figure some things out here, now, aren't we."  
  
"We?" Burt interjected, a little uncomfortably.  
  
"Yes, we," Carole said, voice firm, eyes set.  
  
"Kurt's obviously in no condition to take you home, and you can't drive today." Carole swept over to Burt's side. She began turning off machines, and pulling out IV's, deftly wrapping bandages around Burt's wounds. He watched her in stunned silence.  
  
"I get off of work in a couple of hours, which is when they'll probably let you out, so I can take you home."  
  
"I can take Kurt to my house," Blaine offered. Burt shot Blaine a pointed look. "No disrespect, sir, but he doesn't want to be at your home without you."  
  
A tear slipped unexpectedy down Blaine's cheek. Blaine had tried to be so strong for Kurt. He hadn't realized how much everything had started to weigh down on him as well.  
  
Burt continued to look at Blaine. Blaine shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and looked down at the floor.  
  
"I'm not going to take advantage of your son, sir."  
  
Blaine looked back up at Burt. Burt nodded once.  
  
"Okay," Burt said. "Take care of my son."  
  
Blaine nodded his head, and looked back up at Burt, smiling.  
  
"I will, sir."  
  
"Call me Burt."  
  
Blaine nodded some more, the motion comforting.  
  
"Thank you, Burt."  
  
"For what, kid?"  
  
"Uh, for letting me take care of your son." Blaine lifted Kurt's hand to his lips and kissed it. Burt smiled a little. He'd seen Blaine do that to Kurt about a hundred times since they had met. It reminded him of his wife, Elizabeth.  
  
"Well, I have a feeling he's going to be in good hands."  
  
Carole wiped away a stray tear from her cheek as she gathered up the sharps and put them in a plastic container on the wall.  
  
"I can have Finn go by the shop and help out today," Carole said after clearing her throat.  
  
"Great." Burt looked at these people in the room, gathered together to help him and his son.  
  
"Blaine, uh, why don't you get my son out of here," Burt said.  
  
Blaine nodded. He roused Kurt gently. Kurt opened his eyes carefully, and looked around the room.  
  
"Dad?" he asked, but his sleepy eyes looked confused.  
  
Burt smiled at his son.  
  
"It's okay, buddy. Everything's alright. Blaine here's going to take you home."  
  
Kurt shook his head.  
  
"No. No, I..."  
  
"It's okay." Blaine held Kurt tight around the waist. "We're going to my home. Just until your dad gets released. Okay?"  
  
"But, I..." Kurt looked over at his dad. He pulled Blaine over to his dad's bedside. After a few steps, he wound his arms around Burt's neck and held on tight.  
  
"I'm sorry, dad." Kurt tried to explain the million things he's been thinking ever since he first saw his dad lying in the hospital. "Dad, I..."  
  
"I know." Burt wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight. "I know. Me, too. But, we'll discuss it at home. Why don't you go. Get some rest."  
  
Kurt sniffled, nodding against his father's neck. He let Blaine put his arm around him, and with a final wave to Burt and Carole, walked from the room.  
  


* * *

  
Blaine and Kurt kissed from the moment they got to Blaine's house. They kissed up the stairs and into Blaine's room. Blaine's lips captured Kurt's as they sat on the bed, Kurt winding his fingers into Blaine's curls, Blaine moaning into Kurt's mouth.  
  
"You realize," Kurt said against Blaine's brutal lips, "we have another whole afternoon alone together."  
  
"Yeah," Blaine said, tilting his head while Kurt assaulted his neck, sucking a deep purple bruise just below his jawline. "We can do anything we want."  
  
"Yeah," Kurt agreed, tugging at the hem of Blaine's shirt. "Anything we want."  
  
The two lay on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms.  
  
They fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillow.  
  


* * *

  
Kurt came out of the shower, dressed in a robe and a pair of Blaine's sleep pants, to see Blaine leafing through the pages of _Car and Driver_. Blaine's curls, still wet from his shower before Kurt's, dripped, making wet spots on his t-shirt. Kurt sighed. He moved over to the bed and started frantically drying Blaine's hair.  
  
"You're going to catch a cold with all this wet hair." Kurt swatted at Blaine's hands as he tried to grab the towel away from Kurt.  
  
Blaine and Kurt had slept for hours. Blaine missed a text from Jeff telling him that two police officers had shown up at Dalton and taken Dave into custody. Kurt missed a text from Carole telling him that his dad was home, safe, and exhausted, so there was no rush to come home. She also put a winky face emoticon.  
  
Kurt rolled his eyes and smiled. Carole was starting to grow on him.  
  
Kurt tossed the towel when he was satisfied Blaine's hair was dry enough, and burst out laughing. Rubbing over Blaine's curls with the towel made his hair frizzy. He resembled a badly groomed French poodle.  
  
"I'm glad you find my pain amusing." Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame down the frizz.  
  
"Here." Kurt grabbed a bottle he brought from his house. Squeezing a small blob of product into his palm, he rubbed his hands together, and started working it through Blaine's hair. Blaine closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his boyfriend running his fingers through his hair. Kurt worked his long, slender fingers through Blaine's curls, tugging gently as he worked through knots.  
  
"There." Kurt plopped down on the bed beside Blaine, looking at the page Blaine was reading in his magazine.  
  
"Tesla Model S?" Kurt yawned. "You'd actually drive an electric car?"  
  
"I don't know." Blaine looked at the picture of the silver car on the two page spread. "I'm really addicted to American muscle, and the Mustang's the classic, you know."  
  
Kurt nodded, struggling to listen as his eyes drifted closed. Somewhere between Consumer Reports reviews and the inflated price of the Signature model, Kurt drifted back to sleep.

* * *

  
Kurt felt hands closing in around his throat, his head pinned against the rough brick wall.  
  
 _"I'll make you like me," a rough voice growled._  
  
 _Kurt tried to scream. He wanted to scream. He opened his mouth, but he had nothing left. He thought of his dad, his mom, Blaine...he knew he was going to die._  
  
Kurt shot straight up in bed, still wrapped in his robe, Blaine lying on his side beside him. Blaine had a hand on Kurt's shoulder, rubbing gently. Kurt felt a chill spread throughout his body. He'd been dreaming.  
  
"You're still awake." Kurt shivered against the cold. Blaine wrapped the blanket tight around Kurt's body.  
  
"You were whimpering in your sleep." Blaine brought a hand up to touch Kurt's cheek. "I think you were having a nightmare. Do you remember it, love?"  
  
Kurt nodded.  
  
"I close my eyes, and it's like it's happening all over again," Kurt whimpered. "It's like I can see him, and smell him, and he's all over me."  
  
Blaine nodded.  
  
"I have nightmares like that sometimes," Blaine whispered, placing small kisses into Kurt's hair, "about that night at the dance. I feel so trapped, so helpless."  
  
"I just wish I could forget," Kurt sniffled.  
  
"Maybe we could forget together."  
  
Blaine cupped Kurt's cheek with his hand. Kurt closed his eyes and leaned into the warmth of Blaine's palm. Blaine kissed Kurt's eyelids, one, then the other. He kissed the tip of Kurt's nose. As he brushed his lips against Kurt's, feeling as Kurt melted against his mouth, Blaine reached for the knot to Kurt's robe, tugging a little to try and loosen it. Kurt's breath hitched as he reached for Blaine's hand. Blaine pulled away from Kurt quickly, looking into Kurt's wide eyes and seeing the trepidation there.  
  
Blaine swallowed hard, feeling a little guilty.  
  
"I'm not rushing you, am I?" Blaine quickly removed his hand from the knot in Kurt's robe. "I mean...I'm not forcing you to do something you're not ready for, or..."  
  
' _Something you don't want to do...'_  
  
Blaine didn't want to say it out loud, and hear Kurt admit that he really didn't want him. Kurt put a finger to Blaine's lips to silence his rambling.  
  
"The first time I met you," Kurt said, running his fingers over Blaine's face, "I thought you were an ass."  
  
Blaine chuckled and ducked his head.  
  
"Then the more I got to know you, the more I started to imagine us together like this." Kurt pulled Blaine's arms tight around him. "Lying together in each other's arms, looking into each other's eyes." Blaine lifted his head to gaze into Kurt's blue eyes.  
  
"But then I...I fell in love with you."  
  
Blaine's eyes went wide at Kurt's confession. Kurt's cheeks didn't flush. He looked back at Blaine unashamed.  
  
"You fell in love with me?"  
  
Kurt nodded.  
  
"I have been for a while." Kurt's eyes flicked over Blaine's face, to his lips, to his cheeks, to his forehead, and then back over to his eyes. "I think I fell in love with you after you won that stupid race. When you won me. Even when I was angry and yelling. Even when I threw those rocks at you."  
  
Kurt moved his finger to trace over the faded, silver scar that the rock had left when it scratched Blaine's skin.  
  
"I love you Blaine," Kurt whispered. "And I want you to make love to me."  
  
Blaine was speechless. He gazed deeply into Kurt's adoring eyes, simply blown away.  
  
"I love you, too, Kurt." Blaine's voice sounded strained, like he was parting with a secret he had been keeping to himself for far too long.  
  
Kurt chuckled.  
  
Blaine closed his eyes and smiled, shaking his head slowly.  
  
Kurt looked into Blaine's face, a small tug pulling on his heart. One last thing he had to say.  
  
"Blaine?" Kurt asked, swallowing thickly. "Could I ask you a question?"  
  
Before they continued there was something Kurt needed to know. Something that bothered him ever since he first heard it. He needed to trust Blaine completely, and his reaction to this question would seal it for Kurt.  
  
"Of course." Blaine traced over Kurt's lips with a delicate finger. Kurt shivered. He didn't want this to end, but he needed to know.  
  
"It's really personal, so you don't have to answer if you want don't want to."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt softly, smiling against his lips.  
  
"Just ask me."  
  
Kurt chased Blaine's lips, dreading the words that were about to slip from his own lips.  
  
"Did you sleep with Sebastian?"  
  
Blaine froze, taking in a deep breaath and holding it for a moment. He held onto Kurt tightly in his embrace. Then he moved back a bit so he could look into Kurt's eyes.  
  
"Yes, Kurt," he said without hesitation. "Yes, I did."  
  
Kurt's eyes drifted down Blaine's face to his lips, then down to where his own hands were gripping onto Blaine's hips.  
  
Blaine spoke softly, brushing his lips across Kurt's forehead.  
  
"I'm not a virgin, Kurt. There were...rough times in my life, and I didn't deal with them the best way." Blaine sighed and held Kurt closer. "I've never been sorry for that until just now."  
  
"Why?" Kurt said in a tight voice. "Why are you sorry?"  
  
"I wish I had waited." Blaine's voice sounded distant, sad.  
  
"For what?"  
  
Blaine looked back down at Kurt, making sure to catch his gaze and hold  it.  
  
"For love..."  
  
 _Kiss on the forehead._  
  
"For perfection..."  
  
 _Kiss on the nose._  
  
"For you."  
  
Blaine ran his hand up behind Kurt's neck, drawing him in. Blaine tilted his head slightly and kissed Kurt deeply, breathing in that soothing vanilla scent that seemed to bleed into Blaine's clothes, into his skin, everytime he held Kurt in his arms.  
  
Blaine broke the kiss and looked back into Kurt's eyes.  
  
"Now you know," Blaine said, "do you still want to lose your virginity to me?"  
  
Kurt smiled.  
  
"I'm not losing anything." Kurt ran his fingers through the curls at the nape of Blaine's neck. "I want to give it to you."  
  
Blaine pulled Kurt up to his lips and kissed him. He kissed Kurt until he felt Kurt try to pull away, then he held Kurt tighter and kissed him until any thought of leaving the exquisite torture of Blaine's lips had gone, and Kurt was limp against him, willing Blaine to do whatever he wanted.  
  
By the time Blaine released Kurt, the look of anxiety and sorrow that had clouded Kurt's face was replaced by a look of breathless bliss.  
  
"I'm kind of glad I'm not your first." Kurt bit his lips as his cheeks flushed red.  
  
Red was becoming Blaine's favorite color on Kurt, but at the admission, Blaine's eyes went wide.  
  
"Why, love?" he asked, a tinge of hurt in his voice.  
  
"Well," Kurt said, looking past Blaine's eyes in embarrassment, "it's nice to know somebody knows what their doing."  
  
"Really?" Blaine laughed. " _Somebody_ does? Well, where is this person, because when it comes to you, I'm pretty damn clueless."  
  
"I don't know," Kurt said, cupping Blaine's cheek boldly, pulling him in this time. "You seem to be doing a good job so far."  
  
Kurt's kiss wasn't as dominating as Blaine's. It was tentative and sweet, and innocent in it's attempt at being in control. Blaine let it, let Kurt take control, knew he needed control, especially now when his life had veered in so many different and painful directions without his permission.  
  
Kurt broke the kiss too soon for Blaine, another burning question on his lips.  
  
"So, uh, he was number..."  
  
"Number two." Blaine promised himself he'd answer any question Kurt could think to ask. He always wanted to be honest with him.  
  
"Where am I on that list?"  
  
Blaine's heart stuttered. He lifted Kurt's hand to his lips for his signature kiss. Then he held Kurt's hand to his chest, opening Kurt's palm against the beating of Blaine's heart.  
  
"Hopefully...you'll be the last..."  
  



	25. Chapter 23

Blaine didn't move to kiss Kurt this time, only stared into Kurt's eyes. as he reached for the knot in Kurt's robe and deftly undid it with one hand. Kurt swooned a little at the action. But when Blaine reached to remove the garment, Kurt stilled his hand again.  
  
"What is it, my love?" Blaine pecked kisses around Kurt's hairline.  
  
"It's just..." Kurt hated stammering so much. What was he so nervous about? This was Blaine, and he loved Blaine. He had just told him so. Kurt had so many doubts swirling in his head. "No one's...no one's ever seen me...naked...before, and I...you know...baby penguin..."  
  
Blaine laughed against Kurt's skin.  
  
"Well, I've seen this..." Blaine ran the back of his hand down Kurt's cheek.  
  
"And I've seen this..." Blaine ran his finger's over Kurt's neck and down the front of his chest. Blaine bit his lip with a cheeky smile on his lips.  
  
"And I've seen this..." Blaine softly cupped over Kurt's swiftly hardening cock. Kurt raised a hand and slapped Blaine's arm gently.  
  
"And everything I've seen so far has been gorgeous..."  
  
Kurt turned his head, blushing slightly under the praise.  
  
"But most of all..." Blaine took Kurt's hand in his and placed it on Kurt's chest, over Kurt's rapidly beating heart, "I've seen this. And this is all that really matters. The beautiful, wonderful, amazing heart in a person who so happens to have the most incredible body I've ever seen."  
  
Kurt bit his lip so hard he thought it might bleed. Blaine lifted up slowly and straddled Kurt's waist, looking down on him with eyes that had become an intense honey-gold. Kurt could see the love, could see the affection, but he could also see the overwhelming lust is Blaine's gaze, and knowing that look was directed at him suddenly gave him a feeling of power.  
  
Blaine slowly eased the robe over Kurt's shoulders and gently pulled it down Kurt's arms. Blaine leaned down close to Kurt's ear.  
  
"Exceptional," he whispered against Kurt's skin, and Kurt shivered. "Absolutely exceptional."  
  
Kurt arched his back to give Blaine access to his neck, and when Blaine's lips touched Kurt's skin, Kurt moaned.  
  
"Maybe." Kurt ran his hands across Blaine's broad shoulders, bringing them down his back and across the hem of Blaine's shirt. "Maybe I can undress you first. So I won't be so nervous."  
  
Blaine grabbed Kurt's waist and flipped their positions on the bed, so Kurt was straddling Blaine's hips.  
  
"You can do whatever you want, darling."  
  
Kurt slowly rolled the hem of Blaine's shirt in his hands as he lifted it slowly, revealing the smooth, tan skin of Blaine's abs, and then his chest. Only then did Kurt realize he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly as he continued to gaze in unabashed awe at Blaine's body. Even only the small bit he could see of it left Kurt speechless.  
  
Kurt began to think that maybe undressing Blaine first had been a bad idea.  
  
Kurt looked up into Blaine's face and their eyes locked. Blaine's breaths issued from his lips in tiny, strained puffs, as if he was holding back, restraining himself from something. Blaine looked completely wrecked...tortured even.  
  
It thrummed through Kurt again...that feeling of power.  
  
It felt amazing.  
  
Kurt pulled the shirt up over Blaine's head. Blaine lifted his arms to help, but then, Kurt stopped the shirt just at Blaine's eyes, pushing Blaine back on the bed and pinning his arms.  
  
Blaine smiled.  
  
Kurt kissed his way down Blaine's chest, stopping over each nipple to lap delicately with his tongue. Kurt listened to the reaction from Blaine's body - every slight intake of breath, every sudden hiss, every twitch of his cock in his pants. Kurt momentarily abandoned his hold on Blaine's arms to travel further down Blaine's body. Blaine obediently left them in place.  
  
Blaine's body fascinated Kurt in how different it was from his own. Years of dance and cheerleading gave Kurt a long, lean body. Blaine's muscles were way more defined. Kurt shunned the sun whenever possible, layering his skin with sunscreen no matter what the weather. Blaine looked like he worshipped the sun. Every inch of skin Kurt could see was a deep, delicious shade of bronze. Kurt gave the skin on Blaine's flank an experimental lick to see if it was as sweet as it looked, delighting when he heard Blaine chuckle.  
  
The more Blaine responded to Kurt's touch, the bolder Kurt became. Kurt nibbled on Blaine's hip. Blaine's unbidden moan surged through Kurt like fire. Kurt continued to nip along the waistband of Blaine's pants. He felt Blaine's breathing stop, waiting to see what Kurt would do.  
  
Kurt had to decide exactly how brave he wanted to be. It wasn't a difficult question. Just being around Blaine gave him courage. Kurt remembered their morning on the mountainside, and Blaine's mouth on him while he watched the sunrise. The incredible feeling of Blaine giving him pleasure, expecting nothing in return. He wanted to give that to Blaine. He wanted to be good for him. He wanted to do this. He wanted to taste his boyfriend intimately, wanted to explore all those places he had yet to see.  
  
He slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of Blaine's pants and tugged slowly, bringing them down Blaine's legs and tossed them off the bed, leaving Blaine in his black briefs. Kurt stood to look over his boyfriend's beautiful body. He felt like he should drop to his knees and thank someone, he just wasn't exactly sure who.  
  
Kurt climbed back over Blaine's body, eager to remove the shirt that covered those amazing eyes. Kurt began to miss those eyes looking at him.  
  
"Thank God," Blaine said, wrapping his arms around Kurt. "I was afraid you might have left."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt, trying to roll them over, but Kurt stopped him.  
  
"Oh, I'm not done yet." Kurt sucked seductively on the tip of Blaine's tongue. "I just wanted you to be able to see."  
  
Blaine swallowed, but his eyes danced, pupils blown so wide that Kurt shivered.  
  
Blaine pushed up onto his elbows, watching as Kurt crawled back down his body, eyes locked on Kurt's gaze, unwavering, unafraid.  
  
Kurt broke that gaze for only a moment to look over the bulge in Blaine's briefs. He bit his lip coyly, knowing that Blaine watched his every move through heavy lidded eyes.  
  
Kurt parted his lips and ran his mouth slowly over Blaine's shaft through the cloth of his briefs, blowing hot air over Blaine's skin.  
  
"Nnnngh," Blaine groaned as he shut his eyes.  
  
Then Kurt scraped over Blaine's erection lightly with his teeth.  
  
"God, Kurt," Blaine moaned. "Are you just going to tease me? Because I'm not sure how long I'm going to last if you do."  
  
Kurt blushed.  
  
"You said I could do whatever I wanted." Kurt lowered Blaine's briefs slowly. "If I feel like teasing you, that's what I'm going to do."  
  
Blaine groaned.  
  
Kurt had never really seen another man naked before, exept for a  rather traumatic experience when he was ten when he had walked in on his father dressing in his bedroom. Kurt didn't remember much except a lot of high pitched screaming, from both him and his father.  
  
Blaine was by far the most amazingly beautiful man he had ever seen.  
  
And he belonged to Kurt.  
  
Kurt took a tentative lick from the base to the head.  
  
"Oh God," Blaine moaned, trying not to buck his hips. Kurt repeated the move again and again, watching in fascination at how Blaine's body responded, listening to Blaine moan deep in his throat, how he gripped the bed sheets in his fists till his knuckles turned white. Kurt took Blaine into his mouth slowly, adjusting to the feel of Blaine's cock on his tongue, the taste of his skin, the stretch of his lips as he took Blaine in completely.  
  
Kurt heard Blaine's breathing become shallow pants as he breathed a quiet chant composed mostly of Kurt's name and the words 'oh God'. Kurt peeked up to see Blaine leaning his head back on his shoulders with his eyes squeezed shut, licking his lips almost obsessively. Kurt nudged Blaine's knees and Blaine spread his legs open obediently.  
  
Kurt started to move his head slowly, up and down over Blaine's length. He tried to remember the things Blaine had done, and experimented with a few things of his own.  
  
"Look at me, Blaine," Kurt whispered. "I need to see your eyes."  
  
Blaine raised his head and looked at Kurt. Kurt took him in slowly. Kurt didn't have Blaine's finesse, but his technique still made Blaine squirm. Blaine bit his lip, trying hard to hold Kurt's eyes, but Kurt's innocent eyes looking up at him through a fan of impossibly long lashes was Blaine's undoing.  
  
"Kurt," Blaine moaned. "I need you now or this is going to be embarrassingly short." Kurt giggled around Blaine's cock, which didn't help matters any.  
  
"Blaine," Kurt whined playfully. "I'm never going to get any better at this if I don't get the chance to practice."  
  
Blaine laughed, grabbing Kurt by the arms and pulling him back up his body.  
  
"Come on, Kurt." Blaine rolled Kurt onto his side. "I'll let you practice all you want later. Ok?" Blaine started kissing down Kurt's neck.  
  
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt moaned, grabbing Blaine's shoulders and pulling him closer. " You're such a gentleman."  
  
"Yeah. And right now, I'm feeling awfully under dressed."  
  
Kurt looked down their bodies and noticed he was still wearing the pants Blaine had lent him.  
  
Kurt looked back up into Blaine's lust blown eyes. He took a steadying breath.  
  
"Take them off me?" Kurt hated that it sounded more like a question than the seductive command he aimed for.  
  
Blaine smiled into the kiss he seared onto Kurt's lips.  
  
"It would be my pleasure," he whispered.  
  
Blaine trailed kisses and licks all the way down Kurt's body, stopping for a moment to lavish attention to Kurt's nipples. Kurt felt sure he was going to melt into the bed. He loved everything about this. He loved Blaine's weight pressing him into the mattress. He loved that Blaine's talented tongue seemed to be merciless in its exploration of Kurt's body. He loved that someone had bought Egyptian cotton sheets for Blaine's bed because he had never felt anything so soft against his naked skin, and it made the whole experience that much more erotic.  
  
Most of all, he loved Blaine. Blaine who sucked a mark into Kurt's hipbone. Blaine who gently pulled down his pants, who stopped for a moment to move his mouth over his length, and lick down the insides of both thighs, turning him from timid and anxious to aroused and wanting.  
  
Blaine tossed Kurt's pants to the ground, but he didn't travel back up Kurt's body right away. Instead, he took a moment to slowly lick around his ankles. Kurt's fists kneaded the sheets.  
  
"Oh, Blaine." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. "Remember that problem you were having a moment before?"  
  
"Gotcha." Blaine chuckled. He lay down beside Kurt, wrapping his arms protectively around his boyfriend's naked body.  
  
"Have you ever fingered yourself before, love?" Blaine whispered against Kurt's neck.  
  
Kurt loved Blaine's confidence; his ability to be up-front. No fumbling, no apologies.  
  
"No," Kurt admitted quietly.  
  
Kurt heard Blaine's breath hitch.  
  
"I'm sorry," Blaine said. "I don't want to presume...I didn't even ask..."  
  
Kurt ran his hands through Blaine's hair, pulling at the curls and letting go to watch them bounce back into place, enjoying the way the soft strands tickled his neck.  
  
"I trust you," Kurt whispered into Blaine's hair, breathing in the scent of Blaine's shampoo. "I...I want you inside me...first..."  
  
Kurt felt his cheeks glowing red. This was the most he had ever spoken about sex, and he was doing it while wrapped in the arms of his gorgeous, naked boyfriend.  
  
"Okay." Kurt felt the word against his neck, along with a kiss. Kurt imagined Blaine would leave him for a moment to go get whatever he needed. Blaine didn't want to stop touching Kurt, even for a moment. He rolled slightly and reached for a drawer by his bedside. Kurt heard him root around, and when Blaine shifted back to their original position, he had a small, clear bottle in his hand.  
  
"Are you ready for this?" Blaine asked, rubbing a comforting hand up and down Kurt's back, marveling at the smooth skin beneath his fingertips.  
  
"Tell me you love me," Kurt replied.  
  
Blaine smiled as he kissed Kurt's forehead.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt's eyelids, one, then the other.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt's lips, sweetly, sucking gently on Kurt's lower lip before whispering against them, "I love you."  
  
"Then I'm ready."  
  
Kurt shivered, and Blaine pulled a blanket over them. Kurt appreciated the gesture. He felt exposed and vulnerable. Blaine seemed to know.  
  
Kurt heard the lid of the bottle pop open and stiffened. Blaine kissed him, wouldn't stop kissing him. Kurt didn't know how Blaine had lubed up his fingers without him noticing, but before Kurt could think to be scared he felt a gentle finger slowly circling his entrance, massaging firmly, and then backing away slightly, allowing Kurt to get used to the idea.  
  
"Please, Blaine." Kurt's voice trembled with fear and excitement, his stomach twisting into knots. Kurt felt Blaine's finger breech his opening. He hissed at the intrusion. Blaine stopped, holding his finger in place until he felt Kurt relax again. Blaine worked his finger inside Kurt, feeling his heat, feeling the tight rings of muscle squeeze him. All the while Blaine held Kurt, cradled him next to his body and kissed his neck. Kurt threw his head back against the pillow and kept still, concentrating on Blaine's sweet assault of his body with one finger, then two, and then three, all scissoring back and forth, trying to stretch Kurt, searching for some secret spot.  
  
Kurt kept still until Blaine's fingers found what they were searching for. After that, keeping still was no longer an option.  
  
"OhmyGodBlaine!"  
  
It rushed out of Kurt's mouth as one word. Blaine smiled into another kiss.  
  
"Do you like that, baby?"  
  
Blaine did it again, just to be sure.  
  
"Yes!" Kurt arched against Blaine, and he felt Kurt's erection brush against his own. Blaine had to hold on, think only of Kurt, go slower than he ever had in his life. Between the noises Kurt made and the excruciating slide of his swollen cock against Blaine's, Blaine's body begged to take Kurt hard and fast.  
  
Blaine took a deep, steadying breath, then another as his fingers continued to seek out and massage that special spot that made Kurt keen in the most delectable way. Blaine's lips latched onto Kurt's neck in a place he knew made Kurt weak. Blaine felt the moment Kurt lit completely on fire frmo the inside. Kurt jolted, his entire body a live wire. His hands grabbed roughly at Blaine's shoulders, pulling him closer. The pleasure that raced through him crackled like electricity over his skin, so intensely that tears slipped from Kurt's eyes.  
  
"Blaine." Kurt's breathless pleas came with desperate kisses to Blaine's face, Blaine's neck, anywhere they could touch. "Please, Blaine. I need you."  
  
Blaine stopped and looked at Kurt.  
  
"Tell me you love me," Blaine said with a shy smile. "Tell me you want this."  
  
"I love you, Blaine," Kurt said without hesitation. "I want this. I want you. I want to remember this for the rest of my life."  
  
Blaine removed his fingers, and Kurt hissed, but then immediately mourned the loss of that feeling inside him. Blaine put his hands on Kurt's hips, trying to turn him on his opposite side, facing away from Blaine. Kurt shook his head, surprised.  
  
"But, I want to see you."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt's nose and smiled.  
  
"Do you trust me?"  
  
"Of course." Kurt melted against him.  
  
"I want this to feel perfect for you," Blaine explained, his lips ghosting over the skin of Kurt's face. "I promise, this will be as intimate as you want."  
  
Kurt swallowed, and relented. With a last kiss to Blaine's lips, he rolled over onto his side.  
  
Kurt heard something foil ripping, and knew Blaine had gotten a condom, and was putting it on. He felt Blaine behind him, felt Blaine knead his ass gently before spreading him apart. He felt the blunt head of Blaine's cock against his entrance. Kurt held his breath.  
  
"I love you, baby, " he heard Blaine whisper. "Just relax. Breathe."  
  
Kurt let out the breath his was holding as he felt Blaine enter him slowly. Kurt felt a sting as he stretched to accommodate Blaine entering his body. Kurt shot a hand out and grabbed hold of the headrest, his arm tensing against the burn. Blaine stopped. He reached out and covered Kurt's hand with his, lacing their fingers together.  
  
"I love you," Blaine repeated as he kissed Kurt's neck and shoulders. "I love you so much."  
  
Kurt felt Blaine move again, more slowly than before. He felt Blaine's other hand find his. Blaine's arms wrapped over Kurt's arms and around his waist, holding Kurt tight against his chest, Kurt completely filled with Blaine's cock.  
  
Blaine stayed still against Kurt's body, kissing Kurt's skin, sucking lightly. Blaine moved his hands, still laced with Kurt's, over Kurt's body, feeling over the muscular planes of Kurt's chest.  
  
"Let me know when you want me to move," Blaine whispered.  
  
Kurt couldn't understand how Blaine could sound so calm. Kurt was nearly a wreck.  
  
"Yes." Kurt nodded. "Yes, God, please."  
  
Kurt felt Blaine set a slow pace, pulling out almost completely, then pushing in as far as Kurt could take him, seeking and finding with ease that spot that turned Kurt's stomach to liquid heat. Kurt leaned his head back to rest against Blaine's shoulder, more than happy to let him push and pull in and out of Kurt's body at his leisure. Blaine pulled the blanket tighter around their bodies. Kurt melted into Blaine's touch.  
  
Kurt didn't think at first he would like this position. It always seemed too animal to Kurt, but he trusted Blaine to make this experience amazing for him. Blaine was right. Kurt could feel Blaine all around him. Wrapped in the blanket and the security of Blaine's embrace, Kurt could not escape, even if he wanted to. All the time Blaine talked to him. told him how much he loved him, how beautiful he was, how perfect his skin, how gorgeous his cock.  
  
Kurt blushed furiously from the praise. This was what Kurt had dreamed of. This was magic.  
  
"Oh God, Kurt," Blaine moaned into Kurt's ear. "You feel amazing. I could do this all night with you. Tell me how you feel?"  
  
"I..." Kurt didn't know what to say. How do you put perfection into words? How do you describe the feeling of getting everything you've ever wanted? Kurt was sure he could try, if he could form words. Even just one word would be fantastic.  
  
"Fantastic," Kurt said. "I feel fantastic. Oh, Blaine..."  
  
Words suddenly rushed to Kurt's throat, in a hurry to be expressed, and got lodged somewhere in his chest. He didn't know how to tell Blaine that he was close. He didn't know how to tell Blaine what he needed.  
  
Kurt took Blaine's hand and put it on his cock, begging silently for Blaine to touch him.  
  
"Tell, me what you want, baby," Blaine begged, needing to hear Kurt, wanting to know that Kurt was enjoying himself.  
  
"T-t..." Kurt stuttered, trying to find his voice. "Touch me, Blaine? Please, touch me."  
  
Blaine wrapped warm, sure fingers around Kurt's cock and pumped slowly, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts inside Kurt's body.  
  
Warmth surrounded Kurt all around from the sensation of Blaine's hand moving over him. Slow drags from inside and out ignited every nerve. He was confused by his own reaction. He wanted to squirm with pleasure, but he also wanted to stay perfectly still and enjoy it. He wanted to cry out with the strength of what he felt building within him, but he also wanted to bite his lips and suffer this sweet pain silently.  
  
"God, Kurt," he heard Blaine whimper in his ear. "I'm so close, baby. I don't know how much longer I'm going to last. You're so tight...so hot..."  
  
The more Blaine talked in that smooth, sexy voice, sounding so desperate to cum, the closer Kurt came to his orgasm. Already he felt Blaine's hips shuddering, his smooth movements become erratic.  
  
"Oh, Blaine," Kurt moaned. "I think...I think...I'm so close. Please don't stop."  
  
Kurt was begging, and Blaine's control slipped. He quickened his pace, eager to feel Kurt cum, for the moment when Kurt's tight heat would close in around him and push him over the edge.  
  
Kurt could hear Blaine's beautiful sentiments turn into a single mantra of 'I love you' as he continued to move, pounding into him harder and faster. Kurt loved it. Loved knowing that Blaine's sudden drive to cum was all about Kurt. Kurt's body, Kurt's cock, Kurt's love.  
  
Kurt felt himself unravel, felt Blaine's arms pull around him tighter, and for a moment they felt like one person instead of two, moving together, carried off on the same tide. Kurt felt himself cum, spilling warm over Blaine's fist. His muscles spasmed, tightening around Blaine's cock, encouraging him to cum. Blaine's lips were on Kurt's neck, sucking and biting at the pale skin until he came, shuddering and trembling against Kurt's back. He pushed into Kurt until he bottomed out completely and held himself there, feeling himself convulse against Kurt's body, holding them together by sheer will alone.  
  
Blaine felt Kurt's body relax against him, felt Kurt rub his head against Blaine's shoulder.  
  
"Oh, God, Blaine," Kurt panted, leaning his head back to look at Blaine.  
  
It took a moment for Blaine to register his boyfriend talking to him over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. Blaine couldn't think of anything to say. He leaned in to Kurt and managed capture his mouth in a slightly awkward but still sweet and tender kiss. He wanted to ask Kurt how it was for him, but he felt that might be crass.  
  
Kurt answered his question anyway.  
  
"That was...perfect, Blaine. Thank you."  
  
Blaine smiled and kissed his boyfriend again. Blaine knew he was never going to tire of calling Kurt his boyfriend, or of holding him naked like this in his arms.  
  
Blaine pulled away slightly, but Kurt grabbed hold of his arms.  
  
"Don't go," Kurt pleaded. "Don't get up."  
  
Blaine chuckled.  
  
"But, we're a mess," Blaine explained. "I should get us a towel...or something."  
  
Kurt shook his head petulantly.  
  
"No," Kurt said, his voice becoming heavy. "I want you to stay in me...as long as possible." Kurt yawned, and Blaine smiled.  
  
"I'm in no hurry to be anywhere." Blaine managed to find an old shirt shoved beneath his pillow, and cleaned them up reasonably well. By the time he settled his arms around his boyfriend again, Kurt was already asleep.  
  
  
  
Blaine woke from his state of euphoria only an hour later to the ringing of his phone.  
  
"Hey, Jeff," Blaine whispered, extricating himself carefully from his boyfriend and stepping into the bathroom. "What's up?"  
  
"Blaine." The anxiety in Jeff's voice unnerved Blaine. "He's back."  
  



	26. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for violence.

"What do you mean, _he's back_?" Blaine hissed, keeping his voice low. He didn’t want to wake his boyfriend from his blissful slumber, especially with this particular news.

"I mean, the cops picked him up," Jeff explained, "but his dad got him out. And dude, he's majorly _pissed_!"

"Shit shit _shit_!" Blaine paced the small room. He felt helpless again, and just when he had finally been able to get Kurt to feel a little safer. "Do you know what he’s planning on doing?" Blaine asked, hoping that Jeff might have overheard Dave say something.

"I don't know," Jeff said, sounding shaken. "But whatever he's thinking, it doesn't look like he's sticking around here long."

Blaine quickly weighed his options. He couldn't call the police. They wouldn't go and pick up Dave again after his dad had gotten him released, not without him doing something new. Besides, they would probably tell Kurt to get a restraining order. Problem was, they couldn't do anything to Dave unless Dave violated the restraining order.

By then, it might be too late.

Blaine had to stop Dave himself. Or, at least, he had to try.

"Look" - Blaine ran a hand through his hair - "I'm coming up there. Text me if he leaves, but otherwise, try to find a way to keep him there."

On the other end of the line, Blaine heard Nick whimper. Jeff must have had Blaine on speaker.

"And Jeff," Blaine added. "Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid."

"No problem," Jeff said. "Just get here _quick_."

Blaine hung up and sent a text to his crew, asking everyone and anyone who might still be awake for help.

Fifteen minutes later, Santana called back.

"What is it, hobbit?" Santana's snarky voice greeted him. "Me and Britt Britt's about to get our lady kisses on."

"Any chance you and Brittany can do that over at my house?"

Silence answered him.

"Well, Anderson, I can't say I'm not surprised,” Santana purred, sounding remotely triumphant. “So, are you dumping Lady Hummel to partake in this epic threesome with me and Britt, or is he going to be running the camera?"

"Santana, I really don't have time for this," Blaine said, feeling trapped in his house with a desperate need to leave, multiple plans percolating in his brain, most of them leading to the same distressing outcome. "I really need your help. Can you come over or not?"

The urgent tone of Blaine's voice sobered Santana up.

"No problem, Blaine," she said. He heard Santana murmuring something to Brittany, then the muffled shuffling of clothes being put on. "We'll be there in five. Is that good enough, Captain America, or should I fly?"

"Fly," Blaine said, hanging up the phone and praying someone else might call. He really wanted a second to go to Westerville with him. He tried calling Puck, Sam, and Finn again, but still got no reply. Blaine wasn’t an idiot, but he couldn’t wait. Not the way Jeff sounded over the phone.

Blaine had finished throwing on jeans and a t-shirt just as the girls showed up. He hurried down to meet them, catching them before they could ring the doorbell and wake up Kurt.

Santana blew passed Blaine with Brittany in tow. "So, are you gonna tell us where the fire's at?"

"I have to go to Westerville." Blaine threw on his leather jacket as he explained. "Somehow Dave's dad managed to get him out of jail, and Jeff thinks he's planning on doing something to Kurt."

"And we're here because..."

"Because Kurt's asleep upstairs." Blaine's eyes absentmindedly traveled up the staircase to where his boyfriend lay asleep, in no way wise to the situation at hand. "He's been having nightmares about being attacked, and I don't want him to wake up alone."

Santana had a hundred things to say, sarcastic comments about being relegated to babysitting Blaine's cockpit when she should be off cracking Monster's nuts, but one look in Blaine's eyes kept her quiet. She had never seen it before.

Blaine looked scared.

"You go," Santana said, lightly punching Blaine's shoulder. "Brittany and I gots this."

"Thanks," he said, leaning in to kiss each girl on the cheek. He grabbed Kurt's keys and turned to leave. 

"Oh, uh..." he turned back quickly, eyes bouncing from girl to girl, "don't...go up there, unless you need to. He's...kind of...naked."

Brittany broke into a fit of giggles. A mischievous quirk lit up Santana's face.

"Wanky," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"I mean it, Santana," Blaine said, trying his best to stay serious, which was difficult with Brittany bouncing on her toes, shooting amused looks up the staircase, adorably excited at the idea of _naked Kurt_.

Blaine couldn’t say he blamed her. Naked Kurt was definitely a sight to behold.

"All right, all right, I'll do my best." Santana said, raising her hands in surrender. "But, I mean, I'm not his biggest fan, right, but have you seen him in those overalls?"

"Yeah," Blaine said with a smile, recalling an image of Kurt _without_ his overalls. But it wasn’t his boyfriend’s gorgeous nakedness that had Blaine gazing wistfully in the direction of his bedroom. It was everything that went with it – his vulnerability, his love, and his trust. Those sacred things that Blaine had the honor of partaking in, being caretaker of. Blaine took one last long look up the staircase before he walked out of his house and headed for Kurt's car.

Blaine felt guilty taking Kurt’s car without his permission. It seemed like a mortal sin to deprive him of it. But Blaine had to drive to Kurt's house to pick up his Mustang. He wasn’t going to take Kurt’s Eclipse as far as Westerville. He couldn’t do that to him.

The farther away Blaine got from Kurt, the worse he felt for leaving him without saying good bye. But he needed to push that aside and focus on the task at hand - intercepting Dave before he could come to Lima and do something to Kurt. Blaine had considered sticking it out at home, holding down the fort at his house since Monster and most of the Dalton Crew had never been there. They wouldn’t know where Kurt was. But that wouldn’t hold them off for long. With the money they had and their connections, they’d find out. Besides, Kurt and Blaine couldn’t do that indefinitely. There was school to consider, and Kurt would have to go home eventually. If Dave came to Lima, he could stake out Kurt’s work, catch him alone again. Maybe he’d even go after Kurt’s dad. Blaine just didn’t know, and he couldn’t take the chance.

In his mind, this was the only way.

Blaine held out hope that another member of his crew would answer his text, but he didn't hear anything from anyone at all. In a way, hearing no news comforted Blaine. It meant that Kurt was still asleep, and that Dave hadn't left Dalton.

***

Blaine decided not to let something as trivial as speed limits restrict him, and made the close to two hour drive to Westerville from Lima in around an hour and fifteen flat. He tried to stay as low-key as possible as he pulled on to the grounds at Dalton, but from what he could see, it wouldn’t have mattered if he was driving a bright purple clown car with sirens and flashing red lights. A crowd was already gathered outside the dorm, formed in a sloppy circle, focused on a gruff voice yelling above the general murmur of onlookers. 

"Who fucked with my car?" Monster roared, confounded by his immobile Dodge Charger. "Who the fuck did this?" 

Blaine parked his car in the shadows, a short distance from the crowd. Many of the students turned when they heard Blaine's Mustang approach, recognizing the sound of his boisterous V8 when it pulled to a stop. Blaine got out of his car and picked his way through the crowd, spotting Jeff and Nick huddled together nervously at the outskirts, Jeff's hands conspicuously smeared with grease that he was wiping on the rear of his jeans.

"Monster!" Blaine yelled as he broke through the crowd and approached the baffled boy stomping around like a bull, charging people indiscriminately. "We have some unfinished business regarding my boyfriend!"

At the word boyfriend, Dave froze, but his eyes shifted, the hazel irises almost entirely encompassed by his black pupils. His eyes, dark with rage, fixed themselves on Blaine.

"Boyfriend?" Dave stumbled in Blaine's direction. Blaine backed up a step, but he was being herded by the boys behind him.

"Yeah, Dave,” Blaine said. “Boyfriend.  _My_  boyfriend, Kurt."

Blaine noticed the circle of boys tightening around them. He heard a chant of, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" start, and Blaine prepared himself mentally for the possibility, trying to figure out a strategy...or at least a means of escape.

"What's going on here?" The familiar voice rose over the crowd as Sebastian made his way through the group, with Hunter and Thad at his heels, looking like hyenas waiting for the killing to start.

"I'm just having a little talk with Monster here," Blaine said without turning to look at the boy stepping up behind him. "So back off. This doesn't concern you."

"Dave's my boy." Sebastian smirked as he and the two other boys cut between Blaine and Dave. “So, yes, it concerns me.”

"Really?" Blaine approached Sebastian, holding his gaze, eyes blazing. "I thought you liked Kurt, Bas. I mean, you're a dick and everything, but I thought you might actually have something like real feelings for him."

Sebastian's cocky glare turned cold. His face fell, looking almost frightened as he continued to stare into Blaine's eyes, discerning his meaning.

"Dave?" Sebastian said, eyes wide, turning slowly to look at Monster. "God, what did you do?"

"What did he do?" Blaine's voice grabbed Sebastian's attention again. "He's _your_ _boy_ , Sebastian? How do you not know?" Blaine didn't want to expose Kurt, but he needed to win a few allies. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped to the pictures he had taken of Kurt’s injuries. He held the phone in front of Sebastian's face, and watched him recoil. Blaine swiped through the shots of Kurt's swollen knuckles, the scratches on his face, his bruised lips. When it landed on the photo of his neck, large finger marks purple on his pale skin, Sebastian actually gasped. A few of the other boys around them reacted as well, pulling away uncomfortably. 

Sebastian didn't know what to say or think. He had pretty much given up on Kurt, but that didn't mean the rejection didn't sting. Blaine was right. Sebastian did have feelings for Kurt - feelings he'd never had for anyone else. Feelings he would have given anything to explore, he just didn't know how to express them. Every day he thought about how he had pushed Kurt into Blaine's arms. Sebastian convinced himself repeatedly that if _he_ had finished first in that race, if Blaine hadn’t “won” Kurt, things would be different now.

Sebastian would be the one smelling like Kurt's shampoo, and that delicious scent of vanilla, and not Blaine.

Sebastian's face went from horrified to livid. 

"Yeah? And where were _you_ , Blaine?" Sebastian yelled. "You're supposed to be his _fucking_ knight in shining _fucking_ armor. What were _you_ doing that you couldn't protect him?"

Sebastian's words cut Blaine deep. Blaine still blamed himself for not getting to Kurt sooner. Of course, there was no way that Blaine could have known that Kurt was being targeted by a violent predator, but that didn’t absolve his sin as far as Blaine was concerned. Kurt had texted Blaine that night to tell him he had gotten to the shop early, and Blaine knew that he was running late. Anything could have happened to Kurt at that time of night, in the deserted parking lot of his dad’s closed shop. Lima’s a relatively safe place to live, but that’s no excuse. Blaine should have called, should have warned Kurt, should have offered to pick him up at his house instead.

He should have done something.

Locked in the grip of Sebastian’s accusatory glare, Blaine didn’t try to come up with a defense.

He didn’t have one.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said. “That’s what I thought. Pathetic.” Sebastian stormed away, pushing spectators out of his path.

Wes had heard the commotion through his open dorm room window, but he felt no rush to get there. He figured that he’d let whatever was going to start get underway before he had to make an appearance. Seeing Blaine’s Mustang pull in and hearing Sebastian gripe about that twink mechanic he still carried a hard-on for told Wes that it was his turn to show his face, let everyone outside know who’s still in charge around here. Dalton was _his_ domain. Wes made it to the circle as Sebastian blew past and quickly took his place.

"I'm not too thrilled with your boy, Hummel," Wes said, circling Blaine. "Having Dave arrested for that little...misunderstanding."

"There was no _misunderstanding_ ," Blaine growled between clenched teeth, "when Dave here assaulted my boyfriend."

There was that word again that set Dave's teeth on edge. Boyfriend. Why did Blaine think that Kurt was his boyfriend?

"That's not what the police seem to think," Wes continued, smiling at the grimace on Blaine's face. "You see, they picked Dave here up, talked to him for a little while, and then his dad brought him right back. I doubt he was gone for more than, what?” - Wes turned to Hunter and Thad to get a consensus – “An hour?"

“Yeah,” Thad said, playing along. “I would say an hour, give or take.”

“An hour sounds about right,” Hunter agreed.

“You see that?” Wes said with a toothy, mocking grin for Blaine. “All a big misunderstanding.”

The hairs on Blaine’s neck stood on end. An hour? Dave was only gone for an hour? After Blaine found Kurt, running scared, wild and blind, in shock and unable to look him in the eye? After listening to Kurt in the shower, sobbing and ripping off his skin just to forget about it all? After the nightmares? After Kurt’s fight with his dad? After Kurt’s statement, and the cops taking more pictures of his bruises? After all of that, and Dave was only gone for an hour?

Blaine wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt someone the way Dave hurt Kurt. Take away all their peace and security, make sure that they couldn’t sleep at night without fearing for their life.

He wanted to start with Dave, but maybe he’d start with Wes instead.

“In fact” - Wes continued taunting Blaine when he saw just how much it was getting to him, dying to see how much further he could push - “I suggested to Dave here that he go down to Lima, find Kurt, and apologize. You know, for his ungentlemanly behavior.”

Blaine felt a fire burn behind his eyes so hot he was sure his head had burst into flames. That’s where Dave was headed. Jeff was right. Monster wasn’t sticking around, and that was all Wes’s fault. Wes wasn’t sitting idly by. He was willing to set a disturbed boy on Blaine’s boyfriend…to what? To get back at Blaine? That seemed cruel, even for Wes.

But then memories of three boys punching him and a broken bottle piercing his side flashed through his mind, and Blaine realized that no, maybe it wasn’t too cruel for Wes.

Something else struck Blaine at that moment, burying him underneath it like a pile of bricks. By calling Blaine, by doing whatever he did to disable Dave’s car, Jeff may have saved Kurt’s life.

Blaine had to find some way to thank him.

But first, Blaine had to deal with Dave.

"You listen to me, Monster, and you listen good" - Blaine walked up to the mountainous boy, who stared back at Blaine as though he were no more significant than a flea - "you don't come to Lima, and you sure as hell don't go anywhere near Kurt, because if you do, you’ll be sorry. I’ll _make_ you sorry. Do you understand me?"

 _My Kurt_ , Dave thought as Blaine threatened him, the words not entirely sinking in. _Still my Kurt_.

Something dangerous flashed in Dave's eyes, foreboding, extinguishing the whites and with them, erasing any semblance of humanity from his face. Dave rushed forward. For a huge guy, he moved quickly, but Blaine was faster on his feet. Dave lunged, swinging both arms sporadically in an effort to grab Blaine, but Blaine dodged, kicking straight to Dave's stomach, almost spraining his ankle in the process. Dave may have looked burly, but years of football had made this massive boy mostly muscle. He barely stumbled as he rounded on Blaine, swinging again, but having a smaller stature and a leaner body, Blaine avoided him, this time delivering a roundhouse kick to Dave's nose.

The whole group of boys winced and groaned as an audible crack echoed in the courtyard. Dave knew his nose had broken, knew that blood poured down his face, but he couldn't think past the boy standing in front of him, trying to keep him from his Kurt. Dave's vision blurred; his eyes watered. He saw so many bodies, so many faces around him, but he couldn't figure out which one of those shadowy figures was Blaine.

Dave fumbled into the crowd of boys, who parted like the sea to let him pass, wary of Dave's fists as they swung through the air, looking to make contact with anyone in their way. Dave felt a sharp jab to his jaw, and his head snapped to the side. He saw stars, but quickly returned a jab in the same direction. As he turned into the punch, he felt another kick to the stomach. It winded him, but he turned again, swinging like mad. His fist made contact with something that felt like a person. Dave couldn't be sure, but it was all he had to go on, so he launched after it, trying to make contact again. He tripped, sprawling to the asphalt, rocks and pebbles peppering his face.

Blaine kicked Monster once, then again. As soon as he started, he couldn't stop. He didn't see Dave anymore. He saw Kurt running, frightened, covered in leaves and dirt and bruises, his eyes dull, the light slowly fizzling away as he succumbed to anxiety and pain. Another kick, a groan from Monster, and Blaine remembered just hours ago, before he and Kurt had made love, when Kurt woke up whimpering, sweating, shaking. Monster spat blood onto Blaine's shoes as he poised for another kick, mumbling, pleading in agony, but Blaine felt no pity for the boy.

He couldn’t care less if he killed him.

"Blaine!" Jeff's voice cut through the veil of Blaine's hatred and he stopped. Whether Jeff was trying to keep him from killing Dave, or warning him about an impending attack, Blaine didn’t know. Blaine turned in time to see Wes's fist coming at him, but he wasn't quick enough to keep it from connecting with his face. Blaine spun and fell to the floor, his head glancing off the pavement, stars spinning behind his eyelids

"Blaine Devon Anderson! You stupid motherfucker!" Wes roared. "You have the nerve to come here, to bring this bullshit to my doorstep?" Wes spun around to address the crowd of boys behind him, gesturing to two in particular. "Hunter! Thad! Pin him!"

Before Blaine could think, the two boys emerged from the crowd and pinned his arms behind his back. Thad brought a foot down behind Blaine’s right leg, sending him to his knees. Wes rushed at Blaine and kicked him in the stomach, hard enough to knock every inch of breath from his body. Blaine slumped over, but the two boys on either side of him pulled him upright. Wes swung a second time and punched Blaine in the face.

"No!" Jeff screamed, breaking from the crowd and blocking Blaine with his body. "No, Wes! You can't do this, man! You can't!"

"Get out of my way, Jeff," Wes growled, trying to push Jeff aside, but Jeff moved just out of his reach.

"Come on," Jeff pleaded, holding his arms out so that Wes couldn't maneuver around him. "We used to be friends. _All_ of us. Blaine included, remember?"

Wes faltered, but only for a moment, then he turned his rage on Jeff. Without a word, Wes punched him square in the jaw. Jeff's took a step back, then fell to one knee.

"Jeff!" Nick yelled, but someone grabbed him and held him back. A few boys snickered at Nick’s attempt to fight. He felt his blood become ice cold with fear as more hands reached out to hold him, determined to keep him from helping his boyfriend.

Jeff stumbled, fighting to regain his feet, and Wes punched him again. His head spun, lights shooting before his eyes, but he didn't move against Wes. On unsteady feet, he stood again to shield his friend.

"I'm not going to fight you, man," Jeff mumbled through a split lip, blood pooling around his teeth, but he held his ground. "You're my friend. But Blaine's our friend, too. Isn't it time this ends, Wes?"

Jeff's eye had already started to swell shut, and he rocked on his feet, trying to keep his balance. Wes, uninjured, untouched, approached Jeff, his face blank and expressionless. 

“You’re right, Jeff,” Wes said quietly. “You’re absolutely right. We used to be friends. All of us…but not anymore.”

Wes had a pretty vicious hook, and in his current condition, it only took one more punch to lay Jeff flat. Wes looked down at the boy lying at his feet. _Such a shame_ , he thought. Wes had had such high hopes for Jeff, regardless of his circumstances. He was loyal, obedient, good natured, fair minded. He might have made a decent second. But as it turned out, he was a loser.

Just like Blaine.

“Get him out of here,” Wes said, waving dismissively at Jeff’s prone body.

A couple of the snickering boys from the group came out and dragged Jeff a few feet away, dumping him in a patch of wet grass. Nick wrenched himself free and ran to his boyfriend’s side. Since he was no longer a threat, the boys holding him back let him go. Nick dropped to his knees. He lifted Jeff’s head gently, brushing a tentative finger over Jeff’s swollen eye.

“Oh, Jeff,” Nick whispered, tears running down his face and falling into Jeff's tousled hair.

"Nick!" Wes called, shaking out his hand from the last punch. "If you don't want Jeff to be next, keep your boyfriend down!" Nick shivered at Wes's words, wrapping his arms tightly around Jeff's torso, determined to keep him safe. Jeff moaned against Nick’s chest, feeling his boyfriend's arms wind around him, but other than that, he didn't move. 

Wes turned back to Blaine, limply hanging from the grip of the boys flanking him. Wes relished this defeated image of the one boy who used to best him at everything, the Mr. High and Mighty Blaine Anderson.

Oh, how far the mighty had fallen.

"Jeff's right," Wes said, flexing his fingers. "It’s time this ends."

 


	27. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence and foul language.

Kurt opened his eyes hours later to find himself alone, naked in Blaine's bed. He propped himself up on his elbow, ran a hand through his hair, and blinked in the darkness, searching for Blaine.

"Blaine?" he called. Kurt scanned the room, but saw no sign of his boyfriend. Still somewhat sleepy, he reached for Blaine's pillow and pulled it to him. He held it close and breathed in deep, chasing Blaine’s smell. That's when he saw the note.

_Kurt –_

_Went to take care of some business._

_See you in a few._

_Love,_

_Blaine_

Kurt’s heart slammed in his chest, his entire body from the bottoms of his feet to the roots of his hair suddenly tingling with cold. _Business_. Kurt looked at the clock on Blaine’s desk. It read a little after midnight. What kind of business could Blaine have at _midnight_? Kurt’s foggy brain knew of only one thing Blaine might be doing right now, and it made Kurt's breathing stop. He searched the bed for his phone. He found it stuffed underneath his pillow, and dialed Blaine.

"Pickupickupickup..." Kurt chanted as the phone rang, but the ringing eventually stopped, and the call went to voicemail. Kurt called again several times, but each call went to voicemail. Kurt tried to stay calm, but his whole body went into panic mode. His heart raced, his mouth went dry, he couldn’t stay still. He knew there’d be no way in hell he’d be able to sit around in Blaine’s room and wait for him to come back, so he pulled on some clothes (he had no idea whose), throwing himself haphazardly together, and ran downstairs. He was headed for the front door when the sound of moaning stopped him in his tracks. Kurt peered into the pitch black living room, afraid that he might have caught the elusive Mrs. Anderson (Blaine’s mother, whom Kurt had yet to meet) _in flagrante delicto_ , and with God knows who. Blaine never did say where his mother was or when she would be back. This would be a horrible way to break the ice.

"Unicorn!" a bubbly voice called out of the dark. Brittany, in stocking feet with her skirt hanging off her hips and her shirt askew, ran up to Kurt and threw her arms around him.

"Brittany?" Kurt couldn't have been more surprised than if he _had_ caught Mrs. Anderson having sex. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"Blaine called us to babysit you," Brittany explained. She looked Kurt up and down, her smile turning into a disappointed frown. "He told us you were naked."

“What?” Kurt asked. What was the purpose of mentioning _that_? "I…I don't understand."

"It's simple, Lady Face." Santana followed out of the shadows, zipping up her shirt and adjusting her bra. "One of the Dalton crew tipped Blaine off that Monster's back in Westerville, and Blaine went to sort him out."

"What!?” Kurt gasped. “Dave? I thought..." A hundred horrific images ran through Kurt’s brain of Dave hunting him down, seeking revenge, trying to finish the business he had left undone in the alley, or even more prevalent now, Dave beating the living shit out of Blaine.

Fear crept up Kurt’s throat from his churning stomach and dawned on his face.

"I have to get to him!" Kurt patted himself up and down, searching his pockets for his keys, cursing as he flattened his clothes and found nothing. "Fuck fuck _fuck_! He has my keys!"

"Yeah," Santana agreed blandly. "I think he took your car."

Kurt looked at the two girls in wide-eyed despair. Why did they not look as terrified as he felt?

"Can you guys drive me to my house, please?"

He didn’t understand Santana’s nonchalance, and he barely ever understood Brittany, so he didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the door and walked out. Brittany smiled gleefully at Santana and bounced out after him.

"Yeah. Sure," Santana deadpanned to an empty house. "Why not? Not like any of us were busy enjoying ourselves or anything."

***

Santana drove her Camaro the way Blaine drove his Mustang - with reckless abandon. Except when Blaine did it, it made Kurt hot.

When Santana did it, Kurt feared for his life.

Her car cornered like it was on rails, and like Blaine, she felt speed limits were only suggestions. After a few close calls on the main road with some badly timed cross-traffic and one skid-out near the high school, they made it to Kurt’s house in minutes, and alive, which thrilled him to no end.

Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his Eclipse parked in his driveway, but his heart sank again when he realized Blaine's Mustang was gone. Kurt leapt out of Santana’s car, nearly beheading poor Brittany with his foot in his mad scramble over the seat. He ran up to his Eclipse and looked in the window, cursing when he saw his keys waiting for him in the driver's seat. He felt the hood of his car, hoping for warmth. If the engine was still warm, then Blaine couldn't have gotten here too long ago, and maybe Kurt could still catch him, convince him to go back home with him, and forget about whatever ‘business’ he thought he had with Monster.

But the metal hood was ice cold.

Kurt opened the door, grabbed his keys, and headed for his house.

"I guess we'll wait here!" Santana yelled past her giggling girlfriend as Kurt ran off and left them.

Kurt searched the lower level before venturing upstairs. He didn't know why he thought Blaine would be there, inside the house, and without his car out front, but Kurt hoped against hope that he was.

When he was certain that the bottom level was empty, he raced upstairs and into his dad's room. Totally ignoring the fact that his dad was lying in bed beside (a thankfully dressed) Carole, Kurt shook his dad until his tired eyelids fluttered.

"What the...?" Burt grumbled. He opened his eyes and saw his son's angst-filled face staring back at him. From beside Burt, a light switched on. Carole pulled the covers up to her neck and looked at Kurt.

"Kurt?” she said, startled by his intrusion. “Honey? What's wrong?"

"Dad? Did Blaine talk to you guys when he came by to pick up his car?" Kurt asked, tapping his foot feverishly as he tried to stay calm.

 _Please say yes,_ he thought. _Please tell me he talked with you about his whole stupid plan and you talked him out of it, and now he's at the Lima Bean getting coffee before he returns to me._

_Please..._

"No, kiddo," Burt muttered, sitting up. "What's going on? You look scared out of your wits."

Kurt couldn’t answer right away, too choked by fear and frustration to say a thing. How could Blaine be so stupid? Going off alone to Westerville? Not waking Kurt up to give him an opportunity to talk him out of it? Kurt loved Blaine, frighteningly so, but he could still recognize what a dumbass a move that was, putting his life in danger to solve nothing.

"Could you come with me to the shop?" Kurt asked. Logically, they should head straight to Dalton. But Kurt felt like he would find some answers there. "I think something bad is happening."

"Sure, buddy. Right away," his dad snuffled, gruff with sleep. "Why don't you start over? I'll see you in a few minutes."

Kurt ran to his room to put on something other than Blaine's pajamas. He threw on jeans and a shirt, thinking the evening through from Blaine’s point of view. Blaine had wanted to protect Kurt; that was admirable. But he had run head long into trouble, and hadn't woken Kurt up to say good bye, hadn't given him the option of talking him out of it. Blaine should be with him in bed. Whatever horrendous thing would have happened with the return of Dave, they could have faced it together.

Damn fucking Blaine!

Grabbing the pillow off his bed, Kurt shoved his face in it and screamed. He screamed until his throat burned, until he knew he had done some damage to his vocal cords. Then he threw the pillow across the room. Tears in his eyes, he raced out his bedroom door and down the steps, two at a time.

Outside, Santana had Brittany pushed up against her car, hands up her shirt, lips on her neck.

"Santana? Brittany? Could you go back to Blaine's? You know, in case he shows up back there?" He didn't glance their way as he got into his car and peeled out of the driveway, heart pounding in his ears, teeth clenched against fresh screams. He had the sinking suspicion that whatever was supposed to go down that night, he was too late to stop it.

"Sheesh," Santana complained, opening the door for Brittany. "Everybody and their fucking awful timing."

Brittany sat in the passenger seat, grabbing her girlfriend’s hand before Santana could close the door. Santana saw Brittany’s worried face, her knitted brow, and did her best to smile.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Santana said, petting Brittany’s hair, smoothing down the fly-aways. “Blaine’s a serious badass, and he can give as good as he gets, even better. You’ve seen him. He’ll be alright.”

“Do you really believe that?” Brittany asked.

“Of course, I do,” Santana said, leaning forward to kiss Brittany on the forehead. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

“It wasn’t your fault, you know,” Brittany said, pulling the door shut. Santana’s breath caught in her throat, and she closed her eyes.

Brittany knew – was probably the only person who _did_ know – that Santana’s constant sarcastic remarks were a defense mechanism. Santana didn’t feel any of it. Deep inside, Santana didn't want to admit that she was scared for Blaine, too. She should have tried to keep him from leaving, or at least got him to wait for someone to go with him. Fuck, she should have left Britt at his place with Kurt and gone with him herself. But for whatever she could have done, she didn’t, and she’d never forgive herself if something happened to Blaine. She tried not to think about it as she got into her car and drove Brittany back to Blaine's.

Kurt drove by some of Blaine's haunts before heading to the shop, praying he would stumble upon Blaine’s Mustang, maybe with Blaine asleep inside, but he had no luck.

The lights were on at Hummel Tires and Lube by the time Kurt got there. He saw his dad's truck parked out front, and a petite figure waving at him as he pulled in. Kurt parked next to his dad’s truck, got out of his car, and hurried over.

"Kurt," Carole said, "are you ok? We thought you’d get here before us."

"I went looking in a few places, but…” Kurt shook his head.

“Kurt, it’ll be alright,” she said, trying to soothe him the way nurses do in emergency situations. But Blaine was one of the boys, a friend of her son’s. It wasn’t easy for her to set her own fears aside on this one.

“I keep calling him," Kurt said with an anxious growl, "and it just goes to voicemail. I know something bad happened to him. I just know it."

"Kurt, I need you to tell me what's going on,” Burt said, walking toward his son. “Why would Blaine be in trouble?"

Kurt sighed. He had to come clean. He told his father and Carole everything, starting with the day Wes and his crew first came into the shop. He told his father about Sebastian's constant advances, Dave's unnerving behavior, and Blaine - how Blaine had been an ass to him at first, how he’d pursued him, and treated him like a gentleman. He told his father about the race when Blaine won him from Dalton, told him about the attack, how Dave had shoved him up against the wall and kissed him. He told his father that, after their trip to the police station, Dave had been arrested, and they thought they could start putting this behind them.

"Oh, Kurt," Burt said, taking hold of his son’s arm. "Why didn't you tell me all this sooner?"

"Because I was angry with you at first," Kurt admitted. "And then it all seemed fine...until it wasn't. I...I didn't want to disappoint you. I mean, after the problems with your heart, I didn't want to add..." Kurt stuttered to a halt, choking back tears. "But that doesn't matter right now. If I know Blaine, he went to Westerville to confront Dave. Something had to have happened to him, Dad. He won’t answer his phone, he won’t return my calls. He's been gone for hours."

"Westerville’s over an hour away," Burt said, "so we'd better get going."

“Right,” Kurt said, feeling lighter. They’d go get Blaine together. They’d work this out. Kurt headed to his car, and Burt to his truck.

"Stay here in case he comes back," Burt called over his shoulder to Carole.

"Will do," Carole said, wrapping her arms around her chest and shivering, but not from the morning chill.

A harrowing sound swallowed her reply; the loud, almost overwhelming roar of multiple engines heading their way. Kurt jumped back just in time as a line of cars rushed by at nearly top speed - Wes's Supra, Hunter's Silvia, David's Integra, Thad's Lancer, and pulling up the rear, Sebastian's GT-R.

Burt held Carole as the cars raced by, kicking up dust and gravel, making it impossible to see. Kurt felt something heavy hit his legs. He shielded his face, his eyes watering, but he couldn't see past the HIDs and the storm of debris.

Then, just like that, the cars sped off, disappearing around the corner.

"Are you alright?" Burt called to his son, covering his eyes with a hand, blinking away the dust.

“Yeah,” Kurt yelled, coughing inside the settling cloud, “I’m alright. But I think…”

Kurt was vaguely aware of the presence of something large and heavy at his feet, but he couldn't make out what it was. If he had to guess, he’d say it felt like a body.

Was there a chance that it was…

Carole's strangled gasp confirmed Kurt's fears.

"Blaine!" she cried. "Oh my God! Blaine!"

Kurt still couldn't see clearly, but he knelt, running a hand over what lay hunched there. He felt the rough leather of Blaine's jacket. Running down the length of what should be his arm, Kurt found his hand. Kurt's eyes began to clear. He heard his dad and Carole making their way over at a jog.

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said, tears falling onto Blaine's jacket. Blaine moaned, trying to roll onto his back and look into Kurt's face. When he did, Kurt cried out. Both of Blaine's eyes had swollen shut. His lips were split in several places. A sizeable gash had opened up over his eye, and other multiple cuts littered his skin. Kurt knew those were only the bruises they could see. He couldn't imagine what might be blossoming beneath his clothes.

Kurt saw Blaine's mouth struggling to move.

"Blaine?" Kurt said, his voice weak.

"Hello...beautiful..." Blaine's voice sounded raspy - a raw, scratchy whisper.

Carole bent over Blaine, examining him, gently feeling his stomach and his ribs, watching his reaction. Burt pulled out his phone and called 9-1-1.

"It doesn't feel like he has any broken ribs," Carole announced, trying to get a good look into Blaine's eyes, "but he might have internal bleeding. We need to get him to the hospital."

"No!" Blaine balked, fighting to sit up, but Kurt held his body firm against him. "I can't...no...they'll want to call my mom..."

"That's ok," Kurt soothed. "I'll call her if you want. I'll let her know what happened, and..."

"No," Blaine whimpered. "You don't understand. She's gone."

"What?" Kurt looked into Carole's eyes, questioningly, but Carole looked equally confused.

"What do you mean she's gone, honey?" Carole asked, taking Blaine's other hand.

"She left me," Blaine explained, panicked. "After I got home...after my dad...she said that was the last straw, and she left."

"You mean, you've been alone this whole time?" Kurt felt something sharp wrap around his heart and squeeze. Blaine - his strong, beautiful Blaine - alone in that huge house. Sure, he was almost an adult, and obviously had no problem taking care of himself, but he was still very much a teenager. He shouldn't have to take care of himself. Not yet.

"Look," Carole said, "we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I'm not going to let you possibly bleed to death. Do you understand?"

Blaine nodded, accepting defeat. Kurt turned toward the sound of crunching gravel as his dad walked over.

"The ambulance is on its way." Burt looked down at the boy, lying like a ragdoll in his son's arms. "How you feelin’, buddy?"

Blaine groaned in reply.

"Yup," Burt said. "You look like crap."

Blaine sputtered a sickly laugh. Kurt glared at his father, mortified.

"Dad!" Kurt cried, swatting his dad's boot.

"Well, he does."

Blaine smirked, squeezing lightly at Kurt's hand. Kurt turned back to his boyfriend, unable to stop the tears that escaped his eyes.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine mouthed, reaching up to catch those tears, but Kurt caught his hand, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"You know, I am so so so mad at you, you ass," Kurt said in a trembling voice. "You left me alone. I should have been with you."

Blaine shook his head - a subtle, painful looking movement from side to side.

"No. You would have gotten hurt, too."

"Maybe," Kurt answered, "but you didn't give me that choice, did you? Why is everyone living my life for me?"

"I didn't want you to talk me out of going," Blaine admitted.

"You're fucking right I would have talked you out of going." Kurt cursed the tears that fell from his eyes and on to Blaine's cheeks. "I would have done anything to make you stay."

"Anything?" Blaine managed to smile cheekily at Kurt. Kurt scoffed.

"Right, Anderson" - Kurt grimaced in disbelief - "get your mind out of my pants. At this rate, you're going to be an old man before you suck my dick again."

Blaine’s face went white underneath its sheen of dust, and from behind him, Kurt heard his dad clear his throat.

"Uh..." Kurt's face burned. Whispering or not, his voice cut sharply through the early morning quiet. Blaine's laughter warmed Kurt, even though Kurt silently wondered where that hole was, the one that was supposed to swallow him into the earth to save him from embarrassment. This is the second time it had failed in its duty.

The ambulance showed up within minutes. The EMTs worked quickly, carefully moving Blaine onto a gurney. They tried to take his vitals, but he wouldn't let go of Kurt's hand.

"Don't leave me, Kurt," Blaine murmured. "Please, don't leave me."

"Can't I ride with him?" Kurt begged. "I'm his boyfriend."

"I'm sorry, young man," one of the EMTs said, his voice kind but firm. "Immediate family only."

Burt put a hand on Kurt’s shoulder, then one on Blaine’s arm, squeezing reassuringly.

“We’ll be right behind you, Blaine,” Burt said. “I promise. Five, ten minutes tops.”

Blaine met Burt’s gaze and nodded, then he closed his eyes. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and silently, Kurt shuddered.

"We'll meet him at the hospital," Burt said, tugging gently at Kurt’s shoulder, pulling him away. Kurt reluctantly let go of Blaine's hand, and watched as the two men in uniform loaded the gurney with Blaine on it into the ambulance.

 _Hospital._ Another person Kurt loved going to a hospital.

When would the nightmare ever end?


	28. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for angst, mention of a hospital, Blaine's attack, and bruises.

This trip to the hospital was about as fun as all the others. They almost lost Blaine in the labyrinth of red tape that seemed determined to keep the two boys apart. If not for Carole doing some magic finagling, Kurt would have been resigned to sitting in the waiting room, biting his nails and throwing up into one of the tacky planters they had shoved in every corner.

As it was, the four of them stayed in the hospital for hours while an emergency room doctor ordered x-rays, CT scans, and blood work. A tired nurse, who normally worked during Carole’s shift but was pulling extra hours, cleaned Blaine's cuts and bandaged his chest. When she pulled up Blaine's shirt, Kurt's heart broke all over again. Huge black and blue bruises, some in the exact shape of a fist, marred his tan skin. Kurt wanted to reach out and touch them, run his fingers over them and will them away, but he didn't want to cause Blaine any more pain. 

After the tests were done and Blaine’s injuries were given a thorough once over, the doctor ordered Blaine hydrocodone to manage his pain. She told them that Blaine didn't have any broken bones. Whoever beat him up had done so with his jacket on. The thick leather absorbed most of the blows. Kurt found that hard to believe considering the amount of bruises on Blaine's skin, but he silently thanked whoever might be listening that Blaine hadn't broken anything, especially after being thrown out of a moving vehicle at high speed.

Kurt, his father, and Carole stood around Blaine's bed while the nurses got his paperwork together, preparing to release him. The doctor mentioned that normally they would have kept Blaine overnight for observation, even without any apparent head injury, but the victims of a huge multi-car accident outside of town were being diverted to Lima, and they needed the beds.

Kurt wondered in passing if any of Wes's crew had been involved in that accident. Perhaps karma had been a bitch to the right people for once.

Carole assured the doctor that Blaine would be well cared for, and glanced over at Kurt when she said it. Kurt stood by Blaine’s bed, keeping a firm grip on his hand, eyes trained on the soft rise and fall of his chest, refusing to leave his side.

The doctor snuck a glimpse of the boys, too, with a final, “I’m sure he will,” before she walked out. As she did, someone else knocked on the door. Kurt expected to see the nurse from registration come in with the forms they needed to sign to discharge Blaine. He wasn't quite sure how Carole got around the hospital's protocol of calling Blaine's parents, but he was glad that it wasn't going to be an issue.

Kurt needed to get Blaine out of there. He had never been so eager to get home.

A police officer walked inside the room instead.

"I'm looking for a Mr. Blaine Anderson?" the officer said, walking fully into the room and shutting the door behind him. "I was told I could find him here."

The officer’s eyes bounced from person to person standing in the room, and then to Blaine, lying asleep on the bed.

"Is that him?" The officer gestured to Blaine when no one responded.

"Yes," Burt said, extending his hand toward the officer, “that’s him, Officer…”

"Gregory,” the man said, shaking Burt’s hand. “I wanted to talk with Blaine about an incident that took place in Westerville tonight."

Kurt's eyes widened.

"Uh, Blaine's my boyfriend," he said, stepping away from the bed and towards the officer, subconsciously trying to block the man's view of Blaine. "He went to Westerville tonight to talk to a guy who attacked me."

Officer Gregory raised an eyebrow at Kurt. Burt put an arm on his son's shoulder.

"You're Kurt Hummel, right?" The officer glanced down at his tablet while he spoke.

"Yeah," Kurt said.

Officer Gregory sighed and shook his head.

"What is it with you two and these Westerville kids?" he asked. 

"One of them jumped my son," Burt answered defensively.

"Yeah, I know." Officer Gregory scanned his tablet. "But it looks like those prep school kids are going to get the jump on you guys this time."

"What do you mean?" Carole asked.

The officer handed the tablet to Kurt. His father and Carole peeked over his shoulder at the pdf of a document typed up on Dalton stationary.

"Those boys out in Westerville have already made a statement, claiming that your young man over there drove out to that school and attacked two of their boys, unprovoked."

"But, that's not true!" As soon as the words left his mouth, Kurt realized that he wasn't actually certain what happened at Dalton. Blaine could have done just that, but Kurt doubted it. He wouldn't know for certain until the painkillers wore off and Blaine could talk to him.

"Look at him!" Carole exclaimed, peeking over her shoulder at Blaine, his eyes heavy lidded, his body limp as he lay immobile on the hospital bed.

"Yeah, well, there's a Dalton boy by the name of Dave Karofsky with a broken nose," the officer explained. "And another one, Wes, with a black eye."

"So, he gave as good as he got," Burt reasoned. 

"Yeah, well, they don’t seem to see it that way," the officer said. "And they've got something your boy hasn't got. Witnesses and..."

"Lawyers," Burt finished. "They've circled the wagons already."

"But, why?" Carole asked.

"I'm thinking so that Blaine and Kurt don't try to press any more charges." Burt took off his hat and ran a heavy hand over his head. "They're sending these boys a message."

"Yup," the officer said. "I'm inclined to agree."

Kurt scrolled down the tablet screen to the bottom of the statement. He recognized some of the names: Sebastian Smythe, Wes Leung, Hunter Clarington, all names he expected. But two signatures in particular stood out, and Kurt felt his bones turn to ice: Jeff Sterling and Nick Duval.

Officer Gregory took the tablet from Kurt's hands. 

"I'm going to need to get in contact Blaine's parents," the officer said, looking from Burt's face, to Carole's face, and then to Kurt.

At that moment, cool as a cucumber, Carole did something that made Kurt fall completely in love with her.

"Blaine lives with his mother, but she's out of town on family business," she lied smoothly. "Blaine is staying with his boyfriend."

Carole nudged Burt’s hand.

"That's right," Burt said, quickly confirming Carole’s lie as the truth, a move that could have knocked Kurt over with a feather. As far as Kurt knew, his father never lied. He was honest to a fault. “He’s staying with us – with my son and me.”

The officer nodded.

"Do you know when she'll be back?" he pressed.

"Not really." Carole's nonchalant tone impressed Kurt. "She does this kind of thing a lot. He usually stays with me and my boy, Finn, when she does."

The officer seemed content with her excuse. He handed the tablet back to Kurt with a stylus.

"Go ahead and give me an address and phone number where he'll be staying, just in case those Westerville boys decide to press charges."

Kurt looked to his father for help. Burt looked back at his son and nodded. Kurt wrote down all the information he could think of: Blaine's address and cell phone number, followed by his own address and phone number. He handed the tablet and stylus back to the officer. Officer Gregory glanced over the information, then saved it.

"I'll be in touch," he said, the thought filling Kurt with dread. "And I suggest you guys stay away from Westerville."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said, relieved to see the officer leave. Once the man was out the door, Kurt turned to his father.

"Can he...can he stay?" Kurt asked, whispering in case the officer was hanging around outside the door. "With us?"

"Well, if I said no, you'd go stay with him at his house, whether I grounded you or not." Burt’s gaze shifted between his son and Blaine. Burt was concerned for his son in all this, about the things Kurt had yet to tell him, but he hated seeing Blaine in pain. He was such a good kid, so polite, so respectful, and he really seemed to like his boy. Burt couldn’t just leave Blaine to fend for himself. He knew Carole would take him, but she worked odd shifts. Someone would need to look after Blaine while he recuperated, and whether Burt liked it or not, his son seemed most suited for the task. "It seems the only logical thing to do is to have him stay with us. You know, so I can keep an eye on both of you."

Kurt wrapped his arms around his father and held him. "Thanks, dad," Kurt sniffled.

"Hey." Burt patted Kurt on the back. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo. I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

Blaine still wasn't quite awake when they loaded him into Kurt's Eclipse and headed for home. 

Kurt had sent a text to Santana and Brittany while Blaine was in the hospital, letting them know they had found him, and that he had been beaten up pretty badly. When Kurt got to his house, the entire McKinley Crew was parked outside, sitting in their cars, waiting for their fearless leader to return.

Puck, Sam, and Finn rushed Kurt's car as soon as he cut the engine. He looked out the window at them with tired, irritated eyes. Kurt didn't quite have the energy to deal with whatever issues these boys had, but one look at their faces told him that they weren't interested in anything other than helping Blaine.

Kurt got out of his car.

"I could use some help getting him inside," he said in response to their unasked question.

“Got it, boss,” Sam said.

Puck and Sam supported Blaine, one arm over each of their shoulders, and lifted him from the car. Kurt heard the girls gasp as soon as Blaine emerged. Santana cursed quietly in Spanish, and Brittany whimpered, burying her face in her girlfriend's shoulder. Tina sniffled; Mike held her close. Kurt led the way up the stairs to his room, and had the boys put Blaine down on his bed. Kurt removed Blaine's shoes, and Carole and Finn carefully took off his jacket. Carole hung it over the back of one of Kurt's chairs, smoothing out the shoulders and dusting off what remained of the dirt and debris.

“Okay, boys,” Carole said, ushering them out when it seemed like they would stand vigil by Blaine’s side. They left, though it was obvious they didn’t want to, each taking one last look at their best friend, almost unrecognizable underneath two black eyes and scores of scratches. Kurt closed the door quietly behind them.

"Thanks guys," he said, following them downstairs and back outside. 

"Is he going to be alright?" Puck asked. The rest of the gang gathered around to hear Kurt's answer. 

"Yeah," Kurt said. "Nothing's broken, and he doesn't have a concussion…thankfully." Kurt crossed his arms in front of his chest, rubbing his arms to soothe himself, wishing it was Blaine standing behind him with his arms wrapped around him.

"But, he looks like a zombie." Sam's eyes flicked around the circle at the other faces. "He can't even walk on his own."

"They put him on some pretty powerful painkillers," Kurt said, addressing a circle of bowed heads. No one responded. They didn’t seem to know what to say.

"So, what do we do?" Puck asked. "How do we get these Westerville punks back for this?"

Kurt sighed. He knew this would happen.

"We don't do anything," he said. 

The crew grumbled at that, arguing, voices getting loud as they got more and more irate.

“That's bullshit, man!” Puck yelled. “Look at him. They could have killed him!”

“I know…” Kurt tried to intervene, but the boys continued on without hearing him.

“We should drive up there and kick their asses!" Mike said.

“Yeah," Sam agreed. “We should go now. Take them by surprise.”

“Surprise?” Kurt laughed. The sound of his laughter stopped the boys’ planning short, and they turned their glares instantly on him. "That's _exactly_ what they're expecting. If you drive up there now, they'll all be standing around waiting for you, probably with teachers, the dean, cops.” Kurt rubbed his eyes that had begun to tear. “We can't do anything. Not yet. The Dalton boys already made a statement to the police claiming Blaine started all this. A bunch of them signed it.”

"Which means what, Lady Face?" Santana growled, cradling a softly crying Brittany.

“It _means_ that if we drive off to Westerville and do something stupid, they're going to press charges against Blaine, and he'll probably get arrested.”

The group quieted immediately. Kurt felt exhaustion pressing in on him. He looked toward his house and saw his dad's face peeking out the window.

"Look," Kurt said, "Blaine isn't going to wake up until..." Kurt glanced up at the sky and saw the rays of the sun spreading across the clouds. He couldn't help but think of that morning on the mountainside. Blaine, his beautiful Blaine, comforting him, kissing him, his warm mouth on him. Wasn't that just a few days ago? Why did it seem like a lifetime ago? "...until tonight. Why don't you guys come back then? He'll probably be awake. I'll order a pizza. Maybe one of you could bring over his homework?”

"I'll do that," Mike offered. "We have most of our classes together."

"Great," Kurt said through a yawn. Everyone looked at him, expecting something from him, as if, somehow, with Blaine as his boyfriend and now incapacitated, Kurt had inherited the mantle of _leader_. "I promise, if something happens, I'll text you all. And we'll think of something." Kurt looked back at the brightening sky. 

_I have to do something._

“Kurt’s right,” Finn said, putting a hand on his shoulder, lending Kurt his support in the face of his friends. “That’s what we should do.”

“Yeah,” Puck said. “Yeah, okay. That sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “That’s a…that’s a good plan.”

The crew didn't want to leave, but one by one they climbed into their cars and drove away, except for Finn, who stood next to Kurt and watched the sun light the sky.

"What are you gonna do now, dude?" Finn asked, breaking the silence.

Kurt huffed. He almost a laughed. He’d lived the whole horrific evening moment by moment, anticipating the worst at every turn, until his stomach had turned to lead and his heart didn’t know how to slow down. Now that everything seemed to settle back into place, there was only one thing he could think of to do.

"I'm getting my ass to bed,” Kurt said. "Will you be able to hit the shop for a while after school? Help my dad out?"

"Yeah, man," Finn said, offering his fist to Kurt for a bump. "I've got you covered." Kurt bumped Finn's fist, nodding in thanks, and headed for his house.

"Hey." Finn didn't look at Kurt when he asked, "What do you think happened to his Mustang?"

Kurt froze.

"I don't know," Kurt replied with a slow shake of his head. Part of him didn't want to know.

Kurt walked into the house. He found Carole and his dad sitting on the sofa together. They’d been sitting in silence, but looked up at him when he stepped through the door. Carole squeezed Burt's hand, knowing this was her cue to leave. 

"I think I'll grab Finn and head home," she said, kissing Burt on the cheek. She walked over to Kurt and put her hands on his arms, but he pushed through and wrapped his arms around her. A startled Carole didn’t hesitate to hug him back.

"Thank you," Kurt said, squeezing his eyes shut. He was tired of crying, yet the threat seemed to always be there. "Thank you so much, for everything."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." Carole kissed Kurt on the cheek, relishing the feeling of this previously distant boy melting in her arms. She would have stood there with him for hours if Finn hadn't interrupted.

"Uh, mom? I have to be at school in, like, three hours." Finn yawned into his hand. "I think I'm gonna head on home. You stayin’ here?"

"No, no," Carole said. "I'll come with you, honey." Carole squeezed Kurt one more time before she followed her son to the door.

"I'll call you tonight," Burt called after them.

“See ya later, Kurt,” Finn said.

“Yeah. Later,” Kurt said.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Kurt and his father alone to deal with the aftermath of a hellacious evening. Kurt nearly fell to the floor in exhaustion and slept on the steps, but knowing Blaine slept upstairs was enough to pull him up the staircase toward his room.

"Uh" - Burt stood and approached his son - "I just have to say, I'm not entirely kosher with the idea of the two of you in the same room. I mean, I know he's asleep...and badly bruised...but I'm just saying..."

Kurt sighed, wishing his dad could have started this particular conversation later, but he guessed there was no time like the present.

"Dad," Kurt said, not looking his father in the eyes, "I know you want me to be honest with you, so I’m going to be honest. Blaine and I are dating, and yes, we  _are_ having sex. But right now, I just want to sleep. And if I go to the guest room, I'll keep getting up to check on him. So, I'm going to lay down and sleep next to him...and _sleep_. Ok?"

Kurt didn't know if anything he had said made any sense, but his dad must have understood. He patted his son on the hand.

"Okay, but…we'll talk about _that…_ later," Burt murmured.

"I can't wait," Kurt said with a humorless chuckle. Before he took another step, he looked into his dad's face. "Thanks again, dad. Really. Thanks."

Kurt tromped off up the stairs and into his bedroom. He opened the door and smiled at his boyfriend. Blaine lay on his side, hugging Kurt's pillow tight to his chest. Kurt pulled off his Doc Martens and lowered himself gently on to the bed, trying not to jar Blaine too much.

"Mmm," Blaine murmured in his drug induced stupor. "Kuurrr..."

Kurt's eyelids fluttered shut. 

"It's alright, baby." Kurt kissed the top of Blaine's head, curling in carefully against him and covering them with a blanket. "I'm right here. Get some sleep."

"M'kay. I lo..." Blaine snored softly without finishing the sentence, and Kurt chuckled.

"I love you, too, Blaine," he said. “I love you, too.”  
  
***

Kurt felt at peace lying beside his boyfriend, even as Blaine whimpered in his sleep. Blaine woke Kurt a couple of times with his unhappy murmuring. Kurt whispered soothingly against his skin, kissing his lips gently until he drifted back to sleep. They slept the day away together, side by side instead of wrapped up in each other’s arms since Blaine was still too delicate to touch. As shadows stretched across the room and the sun began to set, Kurt's phone rang. He picked it up, expecting to see Puckerman's name flashing on the screen, calling to tell Kurt that he and the crew were on their way. Kurt rose slowly from his mattress and carried his phone to the bathroom, taking the call in there so as not to disturb Blaine. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen, turning hot when he saw the name _Jeff_.

Kurt answered the call, and without giving the person on the other end of the line a chance to speak, he started his rant.

"You had better explain yourself right now, Jeff, or so help me God..."

"Kurt?" a different voice than the one Kurt expected squeaked into the phone. It startled Kurt to silence.

"Nick?" Kurt guessed.

"Kurt, I...I'm sorry. I didn't have your number, so I used Jeff's phone." Nick sounded like he’d been crying. It made Kurt remember his own sadness, and his anger.

"Where's Jeff?" Kurt demanded. "I want to know why the hell..."

"Uh...Jeff's...asleep," Nick interrupted. "I just wanted to know...how's Blaine?"

"Why don't you tell me why you and Jeff signed that bullshit statement first?" Kurt hissed. "How could you? I thought Jeff was our friend."

"He is." Nick sounded desperate. "Please, Kurt. Let me explain."

"Go ahead,” Kurt snapped in frustration. “Explain it to me."

Kurt heard Nick’s heavy sigh, felt it resonate through his body like it was his own.

Nick sounded trapped.

Kurt didn’t feel much like sympathizing, but he understood how that felt.

"Wes beat Jeff up, Kurt," Nick said, his voice breaking. “Jeff tried to keep Wes away from Blaine, and Wes beat him up. Jeff didn't even fight, and Wes knocked him out cold.”

Kurt gasped. “Oh my God.”

He heard Nick sniffle, and his heart twisted, felt sick for him.

"They called him a traitor,” Nick explained. “Wes said he had to sign and so did I. Jeff refused. But then..."

Kurt waited for Nick to continue.

"Then what, Nick?" Kurt asked, shaking. "Tell me Jeff's okay."

“He told Jeff that if we didn't sign, he'd call my dad and tell him that we're dating. Jeff said it was his word against ours, but Wes said he had pictures of us together that would convince him…he’d show him proof…"

"He threatened to out you?" Kurt burned at the thought of Wes outing Nick just to get the boys to do what he wanted. How much lower could he get? How could one person be filled with so much hate? And these boys were supposed to be his friends!

"It's not just that." Kurt could hear a muffled voice in the background whimper, and Nick quietly shushing someone. _Jeff,_  Kurt thought.  _Nick must be with Jeff, and Jeff must look a lot like Blaine right now._

"My dad...he doesn't want a gay son," Nick continued in a hushed whisper. "He said that if he ever found out I was gay he’d...he'd send me to a conversion camp."

Kurt's breath hitched in his throat, his mouth suddenly dry. 

"I...I'm sorry, Nick," Kurt said. "I had no idea." Kurt sat down on the edge of his tub and dropped his forehead into his hand. He wanted to let Nick go, return to Jeff and put this behind them, but Kurt knew it wasn’t that easy. If he was going to find a way to end this for all of them, there was something else he needed to know. "Nick?" Kurt heard shallow breaths on the other end of the line and thought Nick might have started crying, which made him feel even worse for asking. "The fight. Can you tell me what really happened?"

"Blaine didn't tell you?" Nick asked.

"No, he...he's on a lot of medication. He hasn't woken up yet."

Nick took a deep breath.

"Blaine confronted Dave," Nick said. "He told Dave to stay out of Lima and away from you. Dave got angry. Dave thinks...he thinks you _belong_ to him, or something."

Kurt's heart leapt to his throat.

"Dave rushed Blaine," Nick continued. "Blaine was defending himself."

"Wh-where's Dave now?" Kurt stuttered, standing and peeking out the bathroom window, expecting to see a blood red Dodge Charger parked outside his house.

“He’s with the police.”

“Why?” Kurt yelped. “Because Blaine punched him?” Kurt pictured Monster at the police station, giving another statement, possibly getting ready to press charges on Blaine.

"Sebastian," Nick said. "His dad's an attorney. He called his dad, and the police came and picked Dave up. They're charging him with something. No one knows what, though."

Kurt had to sit back down. Nothing about any of this made any sense. What the hell was even going on?

"What about Wes's black eye?"

"Blaine didn't do that," Nick whispered into the phone. "Wes had Hunter do that to him after..."

"Kuuurrrrtttt." Kurt heard Blaine's painful moan through the bathroom door. He peeked out to see Blaine thrashing, struggling in vain to sit up.

"I've got to go, Nick," Kurt said. “I’ve got to help Blaine.”

"Kurt, I'm really sorry," Nick rushed out.

"Forget it," Kurt said. "Just take care of Jeff." Before Kurt could hear Nick's response, Kurt hung up the phone and ran to Blaine. “Hey, hey,” Kurt cooed softly, grabbing Blaine's flailing arms and holding them gently. "Blaine, sweetie," Kurt whispered, trying not to startle him. The swelling in Blaine's eyes had gone down enough that he could open them, but when he did, Kurt winced. The whites of his eyes were speckled red, the veins sticking out in stark contrast.

“Kurt?" Blaine looked straight into Kurt's eyes, and then shifted them to look around the room.

“You're fine, baby." Kurt tried to get Blaine to lie down, but Blaine was uneasy. As his eyes continued to dart around, Kurt wondered if Blaine couldn’t see him.

"No," Blaine said. "No, I have to go. They have my car, Kurt. I need to get it back."

Kurt laughed a little. That must be the hydrocodone talking.

"Blaine," Kurt took Blaine's face in his hands tenderly and kissed him. There were so many bruises, so many cuts. "I'm sorry about your Mustang, baby. I really am, but it's just a car."

"No," Blaine muttered, trying to push himself off the bed. "No, it's not just a car." Blaine rolled his head back and forth, looking for a way out. "My dad and I...we rebuilt it...before he found out...before he kicked me out..."

Kurt almost lost it, the rest of his strength evaporating with that one remark. Kurt remembered how fond Blaine was of his Mustang, how protective. Kurt knew Blaine and his dad had rebuilt it together, but it never dawned on Kurt what it must have represented. It reminded Blaine of the relationship he had tried to rebuild with his dad before his dad told him to leave and never come back.

Blaine whimpered softly, and Kurt shushed him, placing a kiss to Blaine's hairline.

"It's okay," Kurt said into Blaine's curls. "I'll get it back."

Blaine stopped squirming and squinted up at Kurt.

"You will?" Blaine whispered.

"Yes," Kurt said, trying to sound confident around the lump in his throat, hoping it wasn’t an unkeepable promise he was making. "I'll get it back."

Kurt watched as Blaine's features smoothed out, and Blaine slipped back into unconsciousness. Kurt settled Blaine's head on his pillow, and pulled the blankets up around Blaine's shoulders. In his slumber, Blaine mumbled contentedly. Kurt sighed. 

What the hell was he going to do?

***

The McKinley Crew showed up at seven o'clock, but Blaine still hadn't woken up yet. Kurt ordered pizzas and pay per view movies, and Burt agreed to let the kids camp out on the living room floor for the night.

Kurt sat on the sofa beside Santana and Brittany, Brittany's head occasionally resting on his shoulder while he stared at the TV screen, oblivious to what Iron Man was doing to save the city, or why the hell Leonardo di Caprio's little top wouldn't stop spinning. His head wasn’t in it, his mind drifting upstairs to the boy asleep in his bed. When Kurt wasn’t thinking about Blaine, he was considering and re-considering his plan to get Blaine’s Mustang back.

By the third movie, he didn’t even have a step one, and winging it seemed like a dangerous option.

At around midnight, everyone finally fell asleep. Kurt untangled himself from Brittany’s grasp, gathered his keys, and tiptoed past the other members of the McKinley Crew, sleeping in pairs on the living room floor. He considered going upstairs to say goodbye to Blaine, but if he went up there and his dazed boyfriend begged him to stay, he’d lose his nerve. Kurt slipped out the front door, closing it slowly behind him, but a large hand caught it before it clicked shut.

The door swung open and Finn stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

"Where're you goin’, man?" Finn asked. "It's, like, really early in the morning."

Kurt paused for a moment, trying to think up a believable cover story, but he was too exhausted to come up with one. Besides, when he came back, Finn would know the truth, and he might be pissed at Kurt for lying.

Also, it would probably be a good idea if someone knew where he was going, in case he didn’t come back at all.

"I'm driving out to Westerville," Kurt said. "I'm getting Blaine's Mustang back."

"Kurt!" Finn hunched over to look into Kurt's eyes. "That's crazy! They're going to beat you down, too."

"Maybe," Kurt said. "But I promised Blaine. I have to try."

Finn stood straight, obviously uncomfortable with the thought of Kurt going into the lion's den alone.

"Alright,” he said. “Then I'm going with you."

"Finn..." Kurt started to complain, but Finn shook his head.

"No, dude. I would never be able to face Burt, or my mom, or Blaine again if I let you go alone and something happened to you. I'm going."

Kurt prepared to argue more, but if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to go alone. What Wes and his crew did to Blaine was criminal, but they might do worse to him. Kurt didn’t have the amount of history that Blaine and Wes did, but Wes seemed to hate Kurt just as much. Kurt bobbed his head in agreement.

"Alright,” he said. “But we need to stop by my dad's shop first."

 


	29. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kurt's moment of clarity. Warnings for language.

Kurt drove his dad's tow truck to Dalton Academy. It was a near straight shot down Route 31, and, at that hour of the insane early morning, with absolutely no traffic. His mind and his conscience clear, he stared out the window and down the highway, occasionally reflecting on the few steps of his plan – get Blaine’s Mustang, go home, don’t get the shit beat out of them in the process. Finn didn't talk much. He tried making nervous chitchat in the beginning, but that petered off, and they drove the rest of the way in complete silence.

They turned in to the Dalton campus just shy of two in the morning. The lights in the dorms were on, and they could hear dance music bumping from speakers set up near the windows. Whoever was having this party was definitely thumbing their nose at the rules and letting everyone know it. Kurt parked right out front, hoping the sight of a large tow truck pulling up would attract someone’s attention and announce their presence for them. He killed the engine, listening to the spin of the motor slow as it geared down, and sighed into the darkness.

"You ready for this, dude?" Finn asked, looking behind him toward the brown stone building. The truck had done its job. Several boys had already peered out the window at them, and Kurt saw more gathering.

"Yeah," Kurt said, looking at Finn's face, trying to garner a little extra strength from this kind, caring boy who might someday become his stepbrother. "Let's get this over with."

Kurt climbed out of the truck, and walked up the steps, watching as the door opened in anticipation of him. Finn walked up with him, staying close behind. Kurt was met by a group of boys he didn't recognize. Maybe he had seen them at the races. He didn’t know. But they definitely seemed to recognize him. He could hear whispers travel around the group, becoming more excited as they approached, but among the muffled words he made out names mostly - Dave, Blaine, Wes, Sebastian.

"Out of my way!" he heard the latter command as he pushed boys out of his path to get to the door. Kurt didn't expect the look he saw on Sebastian's face, as if he were running to meet someone important to him after too many months apart. When his green eyes settled on Kurt's face, he stammered. "K-kurt?"

Sebastian looked Kurt over from head to toe. His arms hung at his sides, hands flexing as if itching to grab Kurt and hold him. Realizing that someone else was standing behind Kurt, Sebastian looked over Kurt's shoulder and locked eyes with Finn, posing a silent challenge. At the look of confusion on Finn's face, Sebastian's lips curled into a slow-burning smile. All at once, his cocky façade returned.

"So, Kurt,” Sebastian said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door jamb, “are you ready to dump the losers and hang with the real men?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. So many snide and cutting remarks raced through his brain. He was angry. No, he was _livid_. Kurt wanted to unleash on this boy, but he fought to stay calm as he looked at Sebastian, refusing to back down.

"I need to speak to Wes," Kurt said evenly. "I've come for Blaine's car."

Wes and the rest of the crew had migrated from the hall to the front door when Sebastian didn't return. Wes eyed Kurt and Finn, and smirked, tossing out a wickedly amused bark of laughter.

"Porcelain?" Wes said. "I never thought I’d see _you_ here again."

Kurt looked past Sebastian's convoluted expression to meet Wes's eyes.

"I want Blaine's Mustang," Kurt said.

Wes chuckled, which became a current that started a tremor of laughter through the rest of the group.

"Why would you want that piece of junk?" Wes asked, motioning with his chin to a point out front. Kurt turned to look, and his heart stopped, sinking straight to his stomach like a lead block. How did he miss it? Blaine’s beautiful black car - shattered, broken, torn to shreds, much like its owner. Kurt swallowed back tears, swallowed back anger, swallowed back the black hole of hate that threatened to consume him entirely. He turned to face the matching smug grins of Wes and his mob.

"I don't care," Kurt said. "I want it."

"Well, I don't give things away for free,” Wes said, “and I happen to be fond of that heap of crap. It's going to be the guest of honor at our bonfire tomorrow night." The crowd of boys laughed again. Kurt swept his eyes over them, each one a follower, a lackey, without an original thought in his head, making fun of his Blaine.

Kurt was getting tired of this mocking at Blaine's expense.

"I'll trade you for it." Kurt looked at Sebastian this time, and Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

"And what do you have that we might want?" Sebastian asked, his expression hopeful as his eyes traveled down Kurt’s body.

"My Eclipse." Kurt pointed to the tow truck out front. "I'll trade you my Mitsubishi for Blaine's Mustang. And then, you leave him alone."

Wes's lips twisted into a calculating grin, imagining Blaine’s reaction when he discovered not only what the Dalton Crew had done to his precious fucking Mustang, but that they had wrecked his boyfriend’s car, too. Wes nodded, satisfied that he was getting one hell of a deal.

"I guess that's a fair trade," Wes agreed. "Your Mitsubishi will burn just as well as Blaine's little pony car. Right, Bas?" Wes clamped a hand down on Sebastian's shoulder, but Sebastian had stopped listening. He stared with a wistful look at the tow truck in the distance.

"Yeah," Sebastian said, voice tight and flat. "Yeah, it will."

Kurt's heart should have broken into a thousand pieces, but amazingly, the thought of these bastards burning his car didn't seem to bother him the way he thought it would. Kurt realized before he came here that the car he had worked so hard on wasn't really that important. It was just a car. It didn't define him. Neither did living in Ohio, nor going to NYADA for that matter. What defined him most were the decisions he made. His car wasn't the only thing he would finish, because he was determined to finish _this_ , this stupid feud, right here and now.

"Go on," Wes said with a perplexed look at his second-in-command. "Go get the car."

Kurt and Finn had jogged down the steps, preparing to unload the car. Finn climbed into the cab of the tow truck and lowered the back, while Kurt started unhooking his Eclipse. Sebastian joined them, watching quietly.

"You know" - Sebastian spoke so only Kurt could hear him - "you don't have to do this."

"Yes," Kurt said, not looking at Sebastian as he worked, "I do. I've spent too much time caring about the wrong things."

Sebastian scowled.

"And Blaine's piece of shit Mustang is the right thing?" Sebastian asked defiantly.

"No." Kurt finally looked into Sebastian's face. "Blaine is. And I love him. I need to start making things right." Kurt patted his car fondly and smiled. "This is the first step."

Kurt opened the driver side door and put the car into neutral. Sebastian jumped up on the ramp and helped Kurt push the car carefully off the tow truck. They pushed it to the curb beside Blaine's broken car. Then, Kurt handed the keys to Sebastian. Sebastian looked at the keys in his hand like he had just been handed the secret to unlocking his greatest wish. Finn rounded to the back of the tow truck. He nodded at Sebastian, who stared numbly at the keys in his hand.

Kurt appraised the Mustang. Finn came up beside him.

"What do you think?" Finn asked, watching Kurt's eyes as they shifted over the car. Kurt tried his best to sound detached and clinical, but it took most of the energy he had left.

"It looks like mostly body damage," Kurt assessed. "Tires popped, windshield busted, side view mirrors knocked loose…just a bunch of fucking assholes with crowbars." Kurt opened the driver's door, reaching inside the car for the lever that popped the hood, and noticed that Blaine's sinful leather seats were untouched. He sighed with relief.

Kurt lifted the hood and looked at the engine. The immaculate V8 all but winked back at him.

"Thank God,” he whispered, grateful for their incredible luck. “Come on, Finn," Kurt called over his shoulder as he shut the hood. "Let's winch her up and get her home."

Finn smiled, hopping back into the truck, encouraged by the renewed sound of confidence in Kurt’s voice. Kurt connected the car to the winch and helped maneuver it on to the ramp. When they had it loaded, Kurt secured the car, making sure to cover it for the ride. The thought of people seeing Blaine's Mustang in this condition killed him.

"That's it, Porcelain," Wes jeered, watching with his crew while the two boys worked. "Take that broken piece of shit home to its piece of shit owner. Now they make a matching pair."

The crowd of boys roared with laughter, shouting taunts of their own, but Kurt refused to hear them. He focused on thoughts of Blaine – the look on Blaine's face after they fixed his car, sitting in the passenger seat while Blaine drove him back to their ledge in his Mustang...the Mustang Kurt would do everything in his power to restore for him.

Kurt leapt down from the ramp when he had finished, nearly bumping into Sebastian, who still hadn't moved.

"I heard your dad had Dave arrested," Kurt said, looking into Sebastian's clouded eyes. They were hidden by the shadows of his face, but Kurt knew they weren't aimed at him.

"Yeah" - Sebastian nodded - “I called in a favor, and he took care of it.”

"Wow” - Kurt laughed bitterly – “Called in a favor?” He shook his head and looked down at his boots, kicking at the dirt. “What did Monster do to _you_?"

Sebastian closed his hand around the keys.

"He hurt someone,” he said. “Someone that I thought I could care about. Someone that…that I wanted to love."

Kurt's head snapped up, his jaw dropped as he watched Sebastian turn, with keys in hand, and walk back to the dorm.  
  
***  
  
It was well past sun up when Kurt and Finn returned to Kurt’s house with the busted Mustang. Burt and Carole were already standing outside on the street, waiting impatiently for their sons. Blaine, who had woken up hours earlier, and had been the one to notice that Kurt was missing, paced with a limp and a pained look on his swollen face. The rest of the McKinley Crew were gone, driving around Lima in an attempt to locate Kurt and Finn.

Carole rushed the tow truck when she saw it pull up.

"What in the hell is wrong with you boys?" she yelled as they climbed out of the cab. "Both of you gone in the middle of the night? No call? No note? You didn't tell anyone where you were going?"

“Mom,” Finn said as both boys approached, “I’m so sorry, but, you see, Kurt…”

Carole didn’t let Finn finish, scooping them both into her embrace, crashing them awkwardly together.

"After what those hoodlums did to Blaine,” she continued, “who knows what could have happened to you. And Kurt, your father..."

"Is pissed," Burt cut in as he came up behind them, eyes flicking between Kurt and the tow truck, "but, I trust my son. And, I think I understand."

Kurt broke free from Carole's grip and hugged his father.

“Thank you,” he uttered, and his father squeezed him tight, patting him on the back in that way that told Kurt everything would be okay, reminded him that they had each other, and they would get through the hard times together, no matter what life threw their way.

From the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Blaine limp over to the truck, leaning over oddly to peek under the cover at the twisted lump of metal beneath. Blaine's eyes went wide.

Kurt came up behind his boyfriend and wrapped his arms gingerly around his torso.

"I am so so so angry with you," Blaine muttered, not turning to look at Kurt.

"Hmm," Kurt sighed, kissing Blaine on the cheek, "that sounds awfully familiar. How does it feel, Anderson?"

Blaine dropped his head.

"You got it back," Blaine said in awe. Kurt nodded against Blaine's neck. Finn climbed up onto the back of the truck and pulled off the cover on Blaine’s car. Kurt held Blaine's arm as he limped slowly around his Mustang, examining the damage. "But, how?"

"You don't have to worry about how." Kurt said. "Just focus on getting better so we can fix your car."

Blaine turned to look at him, mouth agape. He peered deep into Kurt's eyes, as if the answer might be hidden there. Then, as if hitting on to some obvious revelation, Blaine looked around, then at Kurt, squinting as he studied Kurt's expression.

"No," Blaine said. "No, Kurt. Not your car."

Kurt didn’t say a word. It hadn’t quite sunk in for him yet. He only shrugged.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine exhaled, taking Kurt in his arms, "you shouldn't have given up your car."

"It's just a car," Kurt said.

"But...but you _love_ that car," Blaine argued. "That car's your freedom. That car could have helped pay for school. It wasn't worth it."

" _You're_ worth it, Blaine." Kurt held his boyfriend, rubbing gentle circles over his sore back. "You begged me to get your car back. I know it means so much to you - so much more than my car means to me. Please believe me when I tell you, I have no regrets."

Blaine kissed Kurt lightly on the cheek.

"No regrets?" Blaine whispered, and Kurt knew Blaine was talking about more than the car.

"None." Kurt nuzzled his nose into the crook of Blaine's neck. "Never."

The McKinley Crew trickled back after Finn sent out a mass text telling them that he and Kurt had returned home, in one piece, having retrieved their leader’s car.

All except Brittany, who sent a text back.

_(8:00 A.M.)_

_From: BrittBritt_

_You guys need to come to Kurt’s dad’s shop quick. Something bad has happened._

Along with the message, she sent a picture of the front door to Hummel Tires & Lube, the glass completely shattered.


	30. Chapter 28

Burt called the police from the house before they headed to the shop. When they arrived, investigators were already there talking to Brittany, and looking over the damage.  
  
Kurt recognized Officer Gregory as he picked his way through the debris. The officer rolled his eyes when he saw Kurt and Blaine walking hand in hand toward the shop.  
  
"How did I know I would see the two of you sooner than later?" Officer Gregory said as he approached them.  
  
Kurt sighed, holding Blaine's hand tighter.  
  
"Hello, officer." Kurt said. "I don't think you've properly met my boyfriend. This is Blaine Anderson."  
  
"Good to see you up and about," Officer Gregory said, extending a hand for Blaine to shake. Blaine furrowed his brow in confusion.  
  
"Uh...thanks?" Blaine looked to Kurt for help.  
  
"Officer Gregory came by your room when you were in the hospital," Kurt explained. "He wanted to ask you about what happened at Dalton the other night, but you were unconscious."  
  
"To say the least," the officer said with a laugh.  
  
"Oh." Blaine and Kurt nodded awkwardly.  
  
"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" the officer asked. Kurt looked at Blaine. Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand.  
  
"We have an idea," Kurt said. "But unfortunately we can't prove it."  
  
"Let me guess," Officer Gregory said. "Your pals in Westerville?'  
  
Kurt nodded. Blaine blew out a long, frustrated breath. Kurt thought the officer would turn and walk away to confer with the other investigators, but Officer Gregory eyed Blaine with a calculating look.  
  
"Hey," the officer said, looking at Blaine directly. "Have you gotten any word from your mom yet? Know when she's coming back?"  
  
Kurt's eyes went wide, looking at Blaine, who appeared surprisingly unfazed.  
  
"Not yet, sir," Blaine replied smoothly. "Unfortunately, I don't expect to hear from her anytime soon."  
  
The officer nodded.  
  
"A-ha," the officer said. "And where did she go again?"  
  
Kurt's hand trembled like a leaf in Blaine's grasp, but Blaine squeezed it reassuringly.  
  
"To my aunt's in Chicago," Blaine said. "For a family funeral."  
  
"And you didn't go?" The officer sounded a little suspicious. "Was it a family member you didn't like?"  
  
Blaine looked up at the officer, fixing the full fire of his gold eyes his way.  
  
"My family in Chicago doesn't speak to me because I'm gay."  
  
The officer seemed startled by Blaine's answer. He nodded.  
  
"I see," he replied. "I'm sorry. Well, it's nice to see you up and about."  
  
"Thank you, sir." Blaine pulled a shell-shocked Kurt toward the shop. Kurt glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were out of earshot, then leaned in to Blaine's ear.  
  
"What was that?" Kurt whispered, still shaken by the officer's questions.  
  
"Carole told me about the police investigating the fight in Westerville and warned me that they might contact me. She told me what you guys said to the officer at the hospital."  
  
"But, what about that stuff about your mom?" Kurt said. "Did you plan for that, or did you make it up in the spot?"  
  
Blaine looked down at his shoes.  
  
"It wasn't all a lie," Blaine said. "I do have an aunt in Chicago. My mom could have gone there. And my family in Chicago doesn't talk to me because I'm gay."  
  
Kurt sighed.  
  
"I am so sorry, Blaine."  
  
Blaine smiled and put his arms around Kurt.  
  
"It's alright," Blaine said. "You're my family now."  
  
Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes and smiled.  
  
"I am?" Kurt's heart fluttered in his chest.  
  
"As long as you'll have me," Blaine said. "I can't imagine any place feeling more like home than right here in your arms."  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt carefully, capturing his lower lip between his. Kurt sighed, just a soft breath of air tickling Blaine's skin.  
  
"Kurt?" Kurt heard his father quietly interrupt. "Come see this."  
  
Blaine led Kurt slowly into the shop, leading him around the broken glass. Kurt looked around, and choked on his next breath.  
  
Glass littered the ground. All of the tools had been emptied from the cabinets. The few cars that had stayed overnight were demolished. Every window was shattered. The filing cabinets had been turned over and all of the files shredded. It looked as though someone had tried to start a fire in the office, but luckily the sprinkler system had kicked in and put it out. The lifts looked like they had been sabotaged.  
  
"Oh, God," Kurt breathed, raising a hand to his mouth.  
  
"Yeah," Burt agreed, rolling back and forth on his heels. "I'm waiting for the adjuster to get here, but I'm not sure if the insurance will cover all the damage. I mean, especially with the cars getting wrecked..."  
  
Burt sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Kurt," Burt looked down at his feet. "I'm not sure I know what we're going to do."  
  
Kurt looked around the shop, the blue fire of his eyes blazing. Enough was enough. Kurt steeled himself as he looked at his dad.  
  
"I do." Kurt's voice was full of determination. "We'll see what the insurance will cover, and then I'll pay for the rest. We'll get the shop fixed, and be back in business."  
  
Burt looked up at his son. Blaine turned to his boyfriend. Both men looked at Kurt with mouths hung open.  
  
"I appreciate the sentiment," Burt said. "You have no idea. But that could be thousands of dollars. Maybe even ten thousand dollars."  
  
"I have twenty-two thousand dollars I earned working for the Dalton Crew," Kurt announced. Blaine nearly choked.  
  
"Twenty-two thou..." Blaine whistled low. "No wonder you were so pissed at me."  
  
Kurt smiled apologetically.  
  
"You got all that for fixing cars?" Burt asked.  
  
"Most of it," Kurt said. "Flipped a couple, too. Bought some old bodies at auction and turned them into racers."  
  
Kurt went from proud to ashamed when he saw the look on his dad's face.  
  
"Dad, I am so sorry. I should have listened..."  
  
"No," Burt said. "I should have listened. I shouldn't have been so stubborn. If I had let you fix that car the first day here in the shop, you wouldn't have gone behind my back. But, look..." Burt took his son's hands in his. "I may not agree with how you got the money, but it's yours. It's for college. New York. NYADA. It's all you've talked about. It's important to you."  
  
"Dad," Kurt said, his eyes glistening, "if I had remembered what was important to me, you wouldn't be in this mess."  
  


* * *

  
The adjuster came to the shop and talked to Burt in the ruined office for over an hour. Kurt and Blaine started cleaning up the shop, and later in the afternoon when school let out, members of the McKinley crew stopped by to lend a hand. The damage to the shop looked worse than it actually was on paper. The tools could be salvaged, and the the sabotage to the lifts turned out to be minor. It was a good thing that whoever Wes sent to do this didn't know much about the equipment at the shop, so they didn't really know how to do any real damage.  
  
The insurance covered the damage to the customers' vehicles, all of which were sent to another shop a few miles away for repairs, covered completely by Hummel Tires and Lube. The money Kurt had saved went toward replacing an air compressor, getting a computer system to replace the old pen and paper filing system, replacing some other odds and ends, and fixing up the cosmetic damage to the shop. Because Kurt, Blaine, and the crew volunteered their time to do the work, Kurt ended up keeping some of his money.  
  
Everything came together quicker than Kurt had imagined it would when they first saw the devestation to the shop. Hummel Tires and Lube was back in business in no time, and Kurt got to the harrowing business of fixing up Blaine's Mustang.  
  
The McKinley kids were really cool about driving Kurt and Blaine around, and Blaine's Mustang was close to fixed, but Burt could see just how much Kurt missed having his Eclipse. It wasn't the car, he knew, as much as the freedom.  
  
Burt knew his son better than Kurt gave him credit for.  
  
One afternoon, when Finn dropped Blaine and Kurt at the house, Burt ushered them to the garage.  
  
Burt took a moment to position the boys elaborately in front of a large wall of boxes. Then he stood in front of them, clearing his throat several times before speaking.  
  
"Kurt," Burt said, looking between the boys, hands still linked. "I want you to know just how proud I am of you. I...I didn't tell you before because...well, I think I took you for granted." Kurt looked at Blaine, and then over at his father again. "But you stepped up. Even met a nice boy..." Burt nodded toward Blaine, who looked down at his feet and smiled. "...you took responsibility, and made a lot of big sacrifices."  
  
Burt sighed when he saw his son look down at his shoes.  
  
"I know you miss your car, Kurt," Burt said, "and I wish I could afford to buy you a new one."  
  
Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand. He knew what his boyfriend was thinking.  
  
"I'd do it again, Blaine," Kurt said, lifting Blaine's hand to his lips and kissing it lightly. Blaine looked over at his boyfriend with a shy grin at the gesture. "Every day, I'd do it again."  
  
"Yeah," Burt interrupted, a little uncomfortable with their display of affection. "Well, I think I have something that might help." Burt motioned for them to turn around. The boys looked, confused, at the large pile of boxes.  
  
"Uh..." Kurt looked at Blaine, who shrugged. Burt sighed.  
  
"Behind the boxes, boys."  
  
Kurt stood on his tip toes and noticed for the first time a large shape covered in a greying car cover.  
  
"What?" Kurt turned to his dad. Burt started to pull the boxes away, but Blaine put a hand on his arm, carefully leading the older man to a nearby chair. Kurt and Blaine moved the boxes to the other end of the garage.  
  
"I've had this in storage since your mom died," Burt said, watching the boys work. "I've never shown it to you before, and, well, you never asked."  
  
Blaine moved the last of the boxes aside and Kurt pulled the drop cloth off the car. Kurt's eyes lit up.  
  
"It's a Mustang!" he exclaimed.  "A '67, right?" His dad nodded. The car was pretty much in mint condition. It was a beautiful blue color, much like Kurt's Eclipse had been only softer, more muter. Blaine thought this shade of blue was much closer to the color of Kurt's eyes.  
  
"It belonged to your mother, before we got married." Burt rubbed a hand over his eyes as he recalled the memory. "I met her when she brought this car into my father's shop." Burt sighed. "It was going to be yours, but then you built that street racer thing, and, well, I didn't think you'd be interested. I didn't have the heart to sell it, so I stored it. I had it delivered when we moved out here."  
  
Kurt stood stunned, his hands cupped over his mouth.  
  
"Oh my God," Kurt said, looking it over, his eyes dancing like a child's on Christmas. "This belonged to mom?" Kurt turned to look at his dad, eyes misted over. "This is beautiful. Thank you."  
  
Blaine put his hands on Kurt's shoulders. Kurt felt a nudge at his elbow, and turned around to see his dad handing him the keys.  
  
"Mark drove her over here, so I know she starts up. She just needs a little tlc. Maybe you can tune her up and stuff, you know, after you're done with Blaine's car."  
  
Kurt took the keys carefully, like they would break it he dropped them. Burt shrugged, shifting from one foot to the other as his son looked at him.  
  
"Dad," Kurt choked around a sob. "I...I'm so sorry."  
  
Burt's head snapped up.  
  
"What for?"  
  
"I'm sorry that I didn't give you the chance to share this with me until now."  
  
Burt took his son into his arms and held him. He reached passed his son's embrace and put a hand on Blaine's arm. Blaine smiled, walking forward to join in the hug.  
  
Burt held the two boys, biting back a sniffle.  
  
"Well," he said, patting the boys on the shoulder, "why don't you guys take her out for a spin? You know, rotate the tires a bit."  
  
Kurt giggled as he hopped into the car, Blaine walking over and getting in on the passenger side. Burt raised the garage door and Kurt turned the key in the ignition. The car roared to life, then purred as Kurt let the engine idle for a moment.  
  
"So, do you like this Mustang more than mine?" Blaine asked, pretending to pout.  
  
"Well, this was my mom's," Kurt said, running his hands over the steering wheel and admiring the vintage dash. "And it has something your Mustang doesn't."  
  
"What's that, beautiful?" Blaine looked from the dash, to the gauges, and then back to Kurt. Kurt raised an eyebrow and smiled wickedly.  
  
"Back seats."  
  



	31. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter with some gratuitous sex and a very important turning point. We're heading towards the finish line...no pun intended. And even though it is not expressly stated, there is no barebacking in this one.

"Oh, God, Blaine!" Kurt moaned, gripping onto the seat in front of him. "There! Right there! Nnggh!"  
  
Kurt let out a frustrated groan as Blaine missed the spot where Kurt desperately wanted him again and again.  
  
"I know where you need me, darling." Blaine smirked. He gripped Kurt's hips as Kurt bounced up and down smoothly in Blaine's lap, Kurt's tight heat surrounding Blaine's cock. "I just don't want you to come yet. I'm enjoying this way too much."  
  
Kurt scratched at the seats, at Blaine's jeans, even his own skin, his body coiled like a spring ready to burst, while his ass of a boyfriend took his sweet time fucking him, prolonging his own release, torturing Kurt for fun. Every time Kurt reached for his own neglected cock, Blaine slapped his hand away until Kurt was whining like a child.  
  
"Damn it, Blaine!" Kurt screamed. "Let me cum."  
  
Once they drove the Mustang out of the city and started up the mountainside, Kurt opened her up. When the engine growled like a panther and the car shot off, Kurt was essentially done. With a V8 engine rumbling under his command and a gorgeous man by his side, he was hard and wanting. He pulled the car over at their private ledge and dragged Blaine into the back seat. He tore off his own clothes in seconds and only managed to unzip Blaine's jeans and pull them and his underwear down just below Blaine's ass.  
  
Kurt imagined that every time he had sex with Blaine, it would be like the first time - making love soft and slow, coveting and cherishing each other. As soon as the cool air touched his skin and he was out on the open road, all thoughts of romantic love making were replaced with now, fast, and hard.  
  
Which is how he got here, completely naked, and at Blaine's mercy, being worked in the backseat of a beautiful car by this sexy as fuck man.  
  
And Blaine wouldn't let him cum.  
  
Blaine loved the look of his boyfriend, naked and vulnerable, shivering under his touch, trembling with every brush of Blaine's leather jacket against Kurt's overheated skin. Blaine wanted to cum. The sounds Kurt made alone would have been enough to tip Blaine over the edge. And the cursing...God, the cursing. Hearing Kurt's angelic voice spout off every four letter word in the book made Blaine's blood boil.  
  
Blaine was more than willing to stave off his own orgasm, prolong his own pleasure to the point of almost painful oversensitivity, just to listen to Kurt moan shamelessly and curse like a sailor. Blaine ran his nails down Kurt's chest, delighting when Kurt arched his back, changing the angle that Blaine entered his body. Blaine kissed Kurt's back, nipping at the skin on his shoulders. He continued to run his nails along the inside of Kurt's thighs.  
  
Kurt whimpered, begging Blaine with grunts and moans to put him out of his misery.  
  
"Blaaiinne!" Kurt rolled his head from side to side on his neck, his hands gripping harder at the seat back in front of him.  
  
Blaine's lips quivered. He was so close, he didn't have the will to fight it anymore.  
  
"I-I'll let you c-cum...if you curse for me some more," Blaine moaned.  
  
"Oh God," Kurt groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck me, Blaine! Holy shit! Fuckmefuckmefuckme..."  
  
Kurt continued with his string of obscenities as he quickened his pace on Blaine's cock. Blaine matched his rhythm, pounding up into that special spot that made Kurt scream. He grabbed Kurt's cock, pumping it like mad as he felt Kurt's legs start to give out.  
  
"Yes, Blaine!" Kurt yelled. "Yes! Right there! Yes!" Kurt chanted over and over with abandon until his voice went hoarse. He continued to mouth the words, even when no sound came out. Blaine felt Kurt stutter against him, felt him spill warm over his fist. Blaine held Kurt tight against him as he felt his own orgasm rip through him. He sank his teeth into Kurt's shoulder, expecting Kurt to shout out at the sudden pain, groaning in ecstasy when he heard Kurt moan instead.  
  
Kurt panted, his heart racing as he felt himself return to earth. His head spun, and he suddenly felt himself shiver almost violently. Wrapped up in his little fantasy world with Blaine, he didn't realize just how cold it was. Blaine pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Kurt. He held Kurt against him, trying to cover every inch of skin he could his warmth.  
  
"Well," Kurt said between pants. "That was dirtier than I had planned."  
  
"Yeah," Blaine agreed. "But at least you know your shocks are good."  
  
Kurt barked out a laugh. Then he grimaced, and groaned, burying his face into Blaine's shoulder.  
  
"What is it?" Blaine asked, suddenly worried.  
  
"Nothing...I just...I started to wonder if my folks ever had sex back here."  
  
Blaine went wide-eyed.  
  
"Oh God, no!" Blaine groaned, laughing into Kurt's skin. "If you ever want to have sex with me in this car again, please never say that."  
  
"Agreed," Kurt said, grabbing for his clothes.  
  


* * *

  
  
Blaine kissed Kurt urgently, hungrily.  
  
"God, I missed this today," Blaine whispered against Kurt's skin. "I missed kissing you like this." Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, while Blaine's hands traveled to Kurt's ass.  
  
Blaine," Kurt moaned as Blaine rutted against him, feeling his erection through his tight, tight jeans. "We just saw each other at school."  
  
"Yeah," Blaine bit Kurt's lower lip, and sparks crackled along Kurt's skin. "But we can't kiss like this at school...without getting detention, that is. When can we leave and go to my place?"  
  
Blaine spent his nights with the Hummels, but Kurt and Blaine spent their afternoons worshipping each other in Blaine's bed. Kurt and Blaine were all over each other every chance they got.  
  
"Mmm...when Mark comes back from his break." Kurt hummed happily as Blaine squeezed his ass. "Then we can go."  
  
"Well, where the fuck is he?" Blaine latched on to Kurt's neck and sucked a deep red mark right where Kurt's overalls would cover it. "I'm not sure I can wait too much longer to have you."  
  
"Blaine?" Kurt asked coyly. "Do you intend on taking me, right here in my father's office?"  
  
Blaine scrunched his nose.  
  
"You had me until you mentioned your father."  
  
Kurt's light laughter tickled Blaine's ear.  
  
Kurt was really beginning to enjoy his life. He only worked part time at the shop now. He decided to join the Glee Club. Blaine even convinced him to join the Secret Society of Superheroes Club. Kurt's superhero persona was The Iron Mechanic. Kurt suspected Blaine just liked seeing Kurt walk around in Spandex. They hadn't heard from the Dalton crew, except for Jeff, who kept in touch, and even stopped by with Nick a couple of times. It seemed that life had finally had enough of messing with them, and decided to leave them in peace.  
  
"Well, then..." Kurt bit Blaine's lip, sending out sparks of his own. Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's ass, lifting Kurt up against him. "I..."  
  
A loud crash shattered the mood, as did the sound of tires squealing away.  
  
"What the fuck..."  
  
Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and they raced from the office to the garage bay. Glass from the shattered door lay all over the floor. Underneath one of the lifts, Blaine saw a brick. Kurt could see a white piece of paper wrapped around it with a rubber band keeping it in place. Blaine picked the paper off carefully and opened it. His eyes darkening as he read it.  
  
"What does it say?" Kurt asked anxiously. Blaine turned the note toward Kurt so he could read it. Kurt's eyes flashed wide. In big block letters were written the words, **'This isn't over.'**


	32. Chapter 30

Kurt begrudgingly cut a check and paid the technician from _All Service Glass_ after the man finished replacing the glass in the door. The guy showed up super fast, and Kurt had to admit, he did exceptional work. The new plate of glass looked identical to the old one, except for the omission of the name _Hummel Tires and Lube_. Kurt would have to add that later on.

"Thanks again, kid," Charles, the same service man who repaired their door before, said, taking Kurt’s check with a crooked smile. "Maybe you should keep me on speed dial. Three more, and you get a ten percent off coupon."

"Thanks," Kurt said with a flat, humorless grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

Blaine put his arms around his boyfriend’s waist as they watched Charles load his tools into his truck, climb in, and pull away.

"Kurt, sweetheart, you've got to call your dad and tell him," Blaine said.

"No, Blaine." Kurt turned in his boyfriend's embrace and looped his arms around his neck. "I am not going to interrupt the first vacation my dad has had in years over a broken window."

"I'm not talking about the window," Blaine said, serious. "I'm talking about the threat."

Kurt heaved a heavy sigh. He knew what Blaine meant. He just wanted to avoid talking about it.

"What is that going to accomplish, Blaine? Is he going to rush home just to have the police tell us there's nothing they can do?" Kurt dropped his head on his shoulders and gazed up at the sky, hoping to find an answer somewhere among the clouds. "No," Kurt said. "There has to be something _we_ can do."

Blaine brought Kurt’s face back down to his and kissed him, sweeping his tongue inside Kurt's mouth, seizing the chance to taste him. He hummed along Kurt's lips before pulling away to gaze into eyes that seemed to reflect the sky. Wheels in his head turned, thoughts and ideas churning, some of them insane, but others…completely possible. One in particular so perfect, he wondered why he didn’t think about it before. He bit his lip and grinned at Kurt.

"You know, I think I might have an idea," Blaine laughed, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"Actually," Kurt said with a wicked grin, "I think I may have an idea, too."

                   
Kurt sucked ruthlessly around Blaine's cock; his mouth hot and wet, sinful as he experimented with a new technique. His head bobbed up and down at a fantastic pace as Blaine squirmed beneath him.

"Kurt...darling..." Blaine panted. "This was an excellent idea...but ho-ow... _ohmyGod_...how does this solve our problem?"

Kurt pulled away briefly.

"I said I had an _idea_ " - Kurt's lips pressed to the shaft of Blaine's cock sent shivers over Blaine's body when he spoke - "I never said it had anything to do with my problem." Kurt blinked up into Blaine's wrecked face. "Actually...it solves _one_ of my problems..."

Kurt sank his mouth over Blaine again and sucked up hard, and Blaine groaned loudly, arching his back against the chair and pulling at the binds on his wrists.

As soon as they had gotten to Blaine's house, Kurt dragged Blaine to his room, stripped his boyfriend of all his clothes, sat him in a chair, and tied his wrists behind his back. Then Kurt dropped to his knees and wrapped his lips around Blaine's cock, sucking him off until Blaine was nearly incoherent.

"Kurt?" Blaine tossed his head from side to side, biting the inside of his cheek in an effort not to cum. "Would you...can I..."

"Fuck my mouth?" Kurt asked.

Blaine sighed into a smile. "Where has my adorable baby penguin gone?" he laughed. Kurt stood up, ghosting over Blaine's lips with his own as he reached behind the chair to untie Blaine's wrists.

"I'm still here," Kurt said sweetly, nibbling on Blaine's lip. "I think you just bring out a bigger animal in me." Kurt growled as he claimed Blaine's lips, working through the knots in the ties and pulling them loose. As soon as Blaine felt his wrists spring free, he leapt on Kurt, pulling him over to the bed and laying him down his back.

"Is this okay?" Blaine whispered into Kurt's ear, sucking gently on his earlobe.

"You know it is." Kurt smiled.

It turned Blaine on so much that his boyfriend trusted him not to hurt him, not to go too far down his throat and ruin his voice. Blaine felt like he was being trusted with the most precious thing Kurt had...besides his heart.

Blaine positioned himself kneeling above Kurt, threading his fingers into Kurt's chestnut hair. Kurt took Blaine's length back into his mouth. Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's hair and began to move, slowly at first, letting Kurt adjust to Blaine’s cock moving in and out between his lips, barely teasing Kurt's throat. Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and moaned.

"Oh, _God_ , Kurt. That's it, darling."

Kurt never shut his eyes when Blaine did this. Kurt loved to watch his boyfriend's strong, muscular legs poised above him, loved to watch the curve of his abdominal muscles as they contracted and relaxed. Blaine's extraordinary control was the biggest turn-on for Kurt - the way Blaine cradled Kurt's head in his hand while managing to take only shallow thrusts so as not to hurt Kurt.

Kurt was achingly hard, his erection crowded in his skinny jeans, but he opted not to stroke himself. Instead, he danced his fingers over Blaine's skin, massaging his thighs and exploring his body. Kurt heard Blaine gasp at his touch, felt Blaine heavy against his tongue, tasted him as he filled his mouth.

"Just like that," Blaine whimpered as Kurt curled his tongue over Blaine's shaft. "Suck harder, darling. You know what I like."

Kurt loved listening to Blaine talk to him, loved the desperation in his voice. Blaine was such a mass of contradictions. He could be so bashful and shy when they were alone together. Mostly, though, he was like this - sexy, confident, not ashamed to ask for what he wanted, and always showering Kurt with praise.

"Your mouth is so hot and wet for me, darling," Blaine rambled. Kurt felt Blaine's grip on his hair tighten, saw Blaine's legs tremble, and he knew Blaine was close. Kurt brought his hands up to Blaine's thighs, creeping steadily to his ass. Parting Blaine's cheeks, his finger circled his entrance with one gentle finger. Kurt had yet to try fingering Blaine, but just this light touch was enough to push Blaine over.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine moaned softly as he came down Kurt's throat, his hand gripping Kurt's hair to the point of becoming almost painful. "Oh, Kurt...oh, Kurt...Kurt..." Kurt continued the tiny circles with his finger until he felt Blaine's body go still, and his cock go soft in his mouth. Kurt swallowed around Blaine as he came. When Blaine pulled out and lay beside Kurt, Kurt took in a sharp gulp of air, a little dizzy, but mostly elated.

Blaine heard Kurt breathe in, and quickly gathered him in his arms.

"Are you okay, love?" Blaine asked, examining Kurt's face, eyes wide with worry. "Did I hurt you?  You couldn't breathe? It sounded like you couldn't breathe..."

Kurt cut Blaine off with a demanding kiss, opening his mouth and caressing Blaine's tongue. Blaine could taste himself in his boyfriend's mouth - salty and bitter, undeniably erotic. Blaine pulled Kurt into his arms and continued to chase that taste, until he felt Kurt smile against his lips.

"I'm fine," Kurt giggled when Blaine finally let him pull away. Kurt kissed the bridge of Blaine's nose.

"I love that," Blaine admitted bashfully.

"I know you do," Kurt said, returning Blaine's bashful smile.

"You have the most incredible mouth," Blaine said, kissing Kurt's lips, a light brush of skin against skin, Blaine's breath tickling the corner of Kurt’s mouth. "And you have the best ideas."

Kurt nipped Blaine's chin. "Now, what about _your_ plan?"

Blaine looked vaguely confused as he gazed into his boyfriend's eyes.

"Oh...right." Blaine didn't divulge the details, just flipped Kurt over on the bed and grabbed his cell phone off the bedside dresser. Kurt watched as Blaine found a number in his contacts and selected it, then waited while the phone rang.

"Hey, Santana." Blaine laid on his side, and Kurt curled up in his arms, licking small circles over the skin of his neck. "Do me a favor, will ya? Could you call every one and have them meet over at my house in an hour?"

Kurt stripped off his shirt while Blaine watched, then pressed his chest up against Blaine's so he could feel Kurt against him, skin on skin. Blaine's eyelids fluttered shut again. Kurt didn't pay attention to what Santana said, but Blaine responded, "I don't know. Do you want to make some Dalton boys cry?"

Silence.

"We'll be there in an hour," Kurt heard Santana giggle over the line. Blaine put a hand on Kurt's ass and pulled his boyfriend against him, noticing Kurt's tremendous, neglected hard-on push against his thigh.

"Uh..." Blaine backpedaled, "better make that _two_ hours." Blaine smiled smugly at Kurt. "I have a favor to repay."

"Wanky," Kurt heard Santana exclaim with a low growl. "See ya later, Anderson." Blaine tossed his phone over the side of the bed and on to the floor as he attacked Kurt's jeans, peeling them with practiced ease off Kurt's legs.

Kurt loved how Blaine picked him up and moved him around as if he weighed almost nothing. Blaine rolled onto his back, pulling Kurt on top of him, maneuvering Kurt so that he straddled his chest. Blaine put a hand to the small of Kurt's back and tipped him forward, Kurt's cock sliding smoothly into his waiting mouth.

Kurt responded immediately, pushing up onto his knees and arching his back. His hands clamped down on the headboard and when Blaine sucked hard, the headboard shook.

"You are way too good at that," Kurt squeaked when Blaine's tongue circled underneath the head of his cock with a teasing lick. Blaine smiled around Kurt's erection, sucking hard and slow, moving back and forth over him. Kurt gripped the headboard tight, knuckles white with the strain, as he pinched his lip between his teeth.

Kurt looked down to see Blaine's lips stretched over his cock, Blaine's honey-colored eyes gazing up at him. The love, the affection, the adoration, as always took Kurt's breath away. The thought that once he might have chosen to dismiss this boy, regardless of his many charms, broke Kurt’s heart. Now, even though Kurt realized they were still young, with their whole lives ahead of them, he couldn't picture a life without Blaine. He wanted a future where he woke up every day to Blaine's smiling face, looked into Blaine's enchanting eyes peeking at him over a mug of coffee, made love to him every night, and just generally spent his days falling in love with him over and over again.

The thought of a long, happy life with Blaine was so attractive, so alluring, that all it took was Blaine grabbing Kurt by the hips and pulling Kurt into his mouth once, twice, three more times before Kurt came down Blaine's throat with a cry.

"Oh, God! Blaine!"

Blaine swallowed around Kurt's cock, but yelped in surprise when Kurt pulled out quickly and threw himself into his arms.

Blaine smiled, but it faded when he felt Kurt's chest heave slightly, and then shudder.

"Kurt?" Blaine whispered. "Kurt...love...are you crying?"

Kurt didn't want to admit that he _was_ crying, that he was so overwhelmed by his feelings - and embarrassingly enough, an amazing orgasm - that he had burst into tears.

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice quivered as he spoke. "Could you do me a favor?"

"Anything," Blaine said, dancing his fingers down Kurt's back.

"Make love to me tonight?"

Blaine's breath caught in his throat at Kurt’s request - so honest and sincere.

"Of course." Blaine kissed Kurt's forehead. "Whatever you want. Can you tell me why you're upset?"

Kurt sighed against Blaine's chest.

"I don't think I _am_ upset," Kurt admitted. "When I...came" - Kurt's face flushed as he spoke - "I was chasing a dream. A wonderful dream. It was sad to see it end."

Blaine hummed in understanding. "You mean the one where we live happily ever after?" he asked, tracing patterns down Kurt's arms with the pads of his fingers.

"H-how did you know?" Kurt asked in awe, looking into Blaine's shining eyes.

"Because, love" - Blaine placed a kiss in Kurt's hair - "I have the same dream."

* * *

 

The McKinley Crew sat in a circle on the floor of Blaine's living room, seven boxes of partially eaten pizza and dozens of empty cans of soda littering the floor between them. Tina sat in Mike's lap as they ate, and Santana had an arm firmly locked around Brittany, with Puck, Finn, and Sam filling in the gaps. They talked and laughed and ate together, several conversations firing off at once, converging at some point to become the sole topic of conversation, except for Kurt and Blaine, so completely absorbed in each other that many of the jokes aimed at them went over their heads, punchlines fizzling, left unacknowledged. Eyes rolled, but then later darted covertly to watch them with shared smiles for the two boys who had eyes for nothing or no one other than each other. Overall, the McKinley Crew was thrilled for Blaine and Kurt. Most of its members had known Blaine for years, and had seen how much he got a bum rap - bullied, beaten up, abandoned by his parents, and left to fend for himself.

Though Kurt and the crew had gotten off to a rocky start, they could all appreciate his struggles - his dad's heart condition, fighting so hard to make ends meet, trying to follow a dream that seemed so far out of reach. The McKinley Crew agreed that even though it seemed like Kurt was Dalton's main target, it was up to the whole group to bring this rivalry to an end.

"As much as I love free food," Santana smirked, "can we get this party started? It reeks of sex in this house."

Kurt frowned in confusion. "How can that be?" he asked innocently. "We haven't done anything down here yet."

Blaine snickered as he kissed Kurt's neck.

"Because, Lady Face," Santana grimaced, "it's clingy. It's a clingy smell."

"Guys," Finn whined, recoiling. "Can we not? I would really rather not picture this."

"So," Puck said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, preparing to get down to brass tacks, "what are we going to do?"

"Well," Blaine held Kurt tight against him, "I say we go out to Westerville and challenge them to an old-fashioned winner-takes-all race."

"And why do you think Wes will agree to that?" Mike asked. "I mean, what is it that he really wants?"

"Frankly, I think he wants to humiliate me," Blaine replied. "He wants to be top dog, and he thinks making an example of me will get him there."

"But, then why go after Kurt?" Sam asked. "Because you guys are dating?"

"Because Kurt told him to leave Blaine alone," Finn said around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

"What?" Kurt said, watching with mild disgust as Finn started in immediately on another slice.

"Remember," Finn said, picking the vegetables off his pizza piece and tossing them onto his napkin, making it about 70% of the time, "when you traded for Blaine's Mustang, you told Wes that if he accepted the trade, he had to leave Blaine alone."

Kurt's jaw dropped.

"Oh my God," Kurt said. "I meant to say _us_. Leave _us_ alone."

"Loopholes rock!" Sam exclaimed. "I bet you he's, like, on the debate team or something."

"So, what are the stakes of this race going to be?" Santana asked.

"Simple,” Blaine said. “Losers stay off the winner's turf."

"You're taking a big risk, though, aren't you?" Mike said, looking straight at Blaine. "I mean, Dalton hasn't really proven themselves to be very honorable, have they?"

"Aaannnddd," Santana said around Brittany's mouth, pulling away from her kiss, "they've got some cars that are going to be hard to beat."

"That GT-R of Sebastian's," Puck interjected with an appreciative whistle, "can spank any one of us any day of the week."

"Yeah," Blaine said, his voice becoming oddly distant, "but I think I have a plan for that."

Kurt didn't exactly like the sound of Blaine's voice when he said that, but he let it slide as Blaine continued.

"But, we have an advantage that they don't have,” Blaine continued, that worrisome tone gone for the time being. “We're a team. They're just a bunch of alpha males. They don't work together. I think they're kind of falling apart. I don't think their crew is going to survive much longer."

Blaine studied the faces of his crew, making sure they understood.

"Why?" Kurt asked. It was sexy seeing Blaine's mind work. As anxious as Kurt was about this whole situation with Wes and Dalton, watching Blaine be all _Master and Commander_ of his crew was quite the turn-on.

"Well, you have to admit” – Blaine smirked – “Wes has kind of lost it."

The group muttered their agreement.

"Yeah..."

"Hells yeah..."

"Definitely..."

"Psycho..."

"So this is what I propose," Blaine pushed forward. "Tomorrow's Saturday. We take our cars to Kurt's shop and make sure everyone's at 100%. Then we drive up to Westerville in the evening and confront him. I don't think he's going to try and jump the whole gang of us, and with his pride on the line, I'm pretty sure we can get him to race."

The drivers nodded, everyone seeming to be on board.

"And if we lose?" Mike asked.

Blaine swallowed, taking a side-eye glance at Kurt, who really had the most at stake if they didn't win.

"We cross that bridge when we come to it."

* * *

 

Blaine and Kurt had no idea when the rest of the crew knocked off to sleep. Puck had brought beers and some wine coolers, and the gang spent most of the night watching pay per view porn on the TV in the living room. Blaine had no idea where the bills went anymore, so he couldn’t care less what kind of tab they racked up. Especially not when he was locked away in his bedroom, with his perfect boyfriend sitting in his lap, moving up and down over his cock, naked, breathless, eyes locked on his as they made love and watched each other slowly fall apart.

 

 


	33. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings in this chapter for fingering and anal sex. Meow :) Also, I have posted pictures of the cars that inspired the cars in this story. You can see them at http://needforspeedcars.tumblr.com/ and http://needforspeedcars2.tumblr.com/. You may want to take a peek before the race so you can visualize what's going on.

Kurt and Blaine got an early start the next morning while the rest of the crew slept. They drove their Mustangs to the shop way before it opened for business. Kurt put both cars up on the lifts and, with Blaine’s help, got to work.

One by one, the crew started to arrive. Finn helped Mark with the regular customers while Kurt and Blaine focused mainly on the crew's vehicles. Kurt worked like a flash, checking lines, engine codes, tires, alignments, charging NOS canisters, making sure that each car was operating at absolute peak performance. He spent most of his spare time on Blaine's Mustang, though. While the rest of the crew broke for lunch, Kurt waxed and polished the black car until it gleamed, Armor All-ed its tires until they shone like black ice, and vacuumed out the interior, making sure it was spotless.

Blaine watched his boyfriend pamper his vehicle, jealous at the attention it was getting. He walked up behind Kurt, catching his hips in his hands as he bent over the leather seats. Kurt mostly ignored him, busy straightening out the NOS line and tightening the blanket over the canisters.

"You know," Blaine whispered, "I've wanted you in this position since the first moment I saw you."

Kurt glanced back at him with a smirk. “Really?” he said sarcastically. “You know, I would have never guessed, what with you being so subtle.”

Blaine chuckled and swatted Kurt on the behind. "She's gorgeous," Blaine remarked. "I don't think I've ever seen her this clean."

"Yeah, well" - Kurt dusted his hands off and stood so Blaine could wrap him in his arms - "I can't guarantee that she's faster than any of Wes's cars, but I want yours to make theirs look like stock."

Blaine smiled against Kurt's neck. Kurt put his hands over Blaine's where they linked around his waist.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Kurt asked, gazing at Blaine through the reflection in the roof of the Mustang.

"All we can do is try," Blaine said, resting his cheek against Kurt's, nuzzling the soft skin with his nose. “Try and hope.”

"Or I can keep repairing the glass in the window, and forget anything ever happened," Kurt suggested.

Blaine kissed Kurt's neck, the softest brush of lips against his skin.

"What if they don't stop at the windows?” Blaine said. “What if they come after you? I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you, Kurt. Not again."

Blaine tightened his grip around Kurt's stomach, resting his head against his boyfriend's shoulder. Both boys stared at Blaine's car. They each tried, in their own minds, to picture how this race would go down, praying they could bring this to an end and put it behind them.

Kurt and Finn closed up shop at five. Most of the McKinley Crew had long gone before then, with instructions to meet at Blaine's house at seven for the drive to Westerville.

Blaine led Kurt upstairs and into the bathroom. Working all day had worn him out, and on the drive to Blaine’s, it had finally taken its toll. Kurt's eyelids hung heavy with exhaustion as Blaine stripped off his clothes, started a hot shower, and put Kurt into it. Kurt rested his hands against the familiar cold tile, bracing himself under the water, mind racing. He felt a figure climb in behind him, wrap arms around him, and hold him beneath the spray.

"How do you feel?" Blaine asked, kissing across Kurt's shoulders.

"Tired," Kurt admitted. "Nervous."

Kurt didn’t want to add to Blaine’s list of worries, so he didn’t admit that he was actually terrified of racing. He enjoyed driving fast. What was the point of owning a racer if he didn’t? He wasn’t a poser, putting all that hard work and money into modding out his Eclipse just for show. But he had never really raced, and definitely not in a Mustang. To Kurt, driving an import racer compared to driving a muscle car was the difference between carving a slab of marble with precision tools and whacking at it with a sledgehammer.

Plus, it was his mother’s Mustang. He would feel like the lowest lifeform on the planet if he wrecked her car.

Blaine picked up a washcloth and a bottle of Kurt's shower gel. He put a dollop of gel in the wet washcloth, worked up a lather, and started washing Kurt's back and shoulders. Kurt smiled, closing his eyes to concentrate on the feeling of the soap sliding over his skin.

Blaine bit his lip, lost in thought as he scrubbed his boyfriend's smooth skin.

"Look," Blaine started, "I know we should probably go straight to sleep the moment we step out of this shower, but I was hoping you might do something for me."

Kurt turned to face Blaine and Blaine continued to wash over Kurt's chest.

"What is it, baby?" Kurt asked, linking his arms around Blaine's neck, kissing the tip of Blaine's nose.

"Would you...could you" - Blaine ran the wash cloth up Kurt's side, watching a trail of suds form along the line of his pale skin before the water washed it away - "make love to me?"

Kurt gave Blaine an amused half-smile.

"Of course I will," Kurt said. "You don't have to seem so nervous. I'm not _that_ tired." Kurt pulled Blaine closer. “I’d _love_ to have you inside of me.”

Those words took Blaine’s breath away, and he almost didn’t have it in him to correct Kurt.

"No, no, that's not what I meant, though" - Blaine chuckled - "that sounds _awesome_ when you put it that way.”

“I was hoping it would,” Kurt admitted.

“What I mean is, would _you_ make love to _me_?" Blaine asked, the hint of a blush spreading up his neck to his cheeks

Kurt blinked in confusion, then finally grasped his meaning.

"Oh, _oh_ ," Kurt said. "You mean, with me inside of…” Kurt saw the nervousness in Blaine’s eyes and tried harder to make sense. “Yes. Yes, of course, i-if that's what you want. But why do you seem so nervous? I should be the nervous one."

Blaine sighed, continuing to rub the wash cloth up and down Kurt's back as he stood locked in his boyfriend's arms.

"Because," Blaine explained, "I've never done it…like that...before..."

Kurt looked at Blaine wide-eyed. For some reason, he didn't imagine there was anything Blaine hadn't done. And though Kurt had told Blaine he was happy he wasn't Blaine's first, it had depressed him a bit that there wasn't anything they could experience for the first time together.

This could be that thing.

“Why are _you_ nervous, love?” Blaine asked. “Do you not want to?”

"Oh my God, Blaine! Of course I want to!” Kurt rushed, causing Blaine to choke on a laugh. “But I...I don't want to hurt you. And I don't want to look ridiculous, because I don't know what I'm doing."

Blaine shook his head, and kissed Kurt slowly.

"You could never be ridiculous," Blaine whispered against Kurt's lips. "And you're not going to hurt me. I just...I need you...like this. Okay?"

“Okay.” Kurt nodded. “Okay.”

Blaine broke away from his boyfriend briefly to step out of the shower, and came back with a small clear bottle of lube. He held it out to Kurt with pleading eyes. Kurt shyly took the bottle, taking Blaine's hand with it and pulling him close, wrapping his long arms around him and holding him tight.

Kurt felt Blaine shudder against him as he fumbled to open the bottle. He breathed deeply, trying to steady his shaking fingers. Blaine kissed Kurt's chest, sucking on his nipples, lapping at the hard nubs, and Kurt felt himself get immediately hard, the surge off blood rushing south not helping his shaking fingers.

"It's okay," Blaine murmured against Kurt's skin. Kurt felt Blaine smiling. "Relax, darling. I trust you."

Kurt tried to force himself to relax, but he was eager to get his hands on his boyfriend. He finally got the cap flipped open, and the bottle almost flew out of his hands. He squeezed too hard, got a little too much lube on his fingers, but he didn't care. He set the slippery bottle aside and carefully reached one slick finger down to Blaine's crack. Kurt felt Blaine shiver, and that gave him a bit of confidence. Kurt circled Blaine's entrance, and Blaine breathed a contented sigh.

"I love the way you do that, darling," Blaine encouraged, holding Kurt close. Kurt experimented, pressing in a little, and felt Blaine's breath hitch in his throat.

"That's it," he breathed. "Keep going. You're not going to hurt me."

Kurt bit his lip as he pressed in a little further, but he was still so nervous.

"Blaine, I..."

Blaine’s eyes darted to the side, locating where Kurt had put the lube bottle on the soap dish. He reached for the bottle, watching as Kurt's eyes followed his hand.

"May I?" Blaine asked, raising his eyebrows in question. Kurt nodded.

Blaine took the bottle in his hands and squeezed a drop over his fingers, slicking them up.

"Here" - Blaine reached around Kurt and pressed a gentle fingertip over Kurt's hole - "do what I do."

Kurt gulped hard. He could feel Blaine's cock twitch against him, his eyes on Kurt's face as Blaine's finger entered his body.

It took a moment for Kurt to convince his own finger to move, paralyzed by the feeling of Blaine's finger pushing into him. Kurt entered Blaine, moving his slick finger passed the ring of muscle, and felt himself engulfed by Blaine's heat.

"That's it." Blaine released a breath he had been holding, the rush of air brushing along Kurt's wet skin, sending delicious chills down Kurt's spine. Kurt felt Blaine's finger move, pulling out slowly, then pushing in firmly, and tried to imitate the movement. He watched Blaine's eyelids flutter shut, a small smile spreading across his face.

"Good," Blaine hummed from the feeling of Kurt's tentative finger inside him, stroking him cautiously. "Do you want me to add another finger?"

“Yes,” Kurt exhaled, preparing himself for the burn of Blaine adding a second finger to the one already inside him. Kurt followed every movement with his own fingers, circling Blaine's entrance again with a second finger, trying to soothe away any sting before slipping it inside. Blaine's response almost made Kurt cum. He threw his head back, biting hard on his lip, the smile on his face becoming impossibly wider.

"Yes," Blaine sighed, rutting against Kurt's wet thigh. "There you are."

Blaine moved his fingers in and out of Kurt, scissoring them to open Kurt up. Kurt did the same, barely feeling Blaine's fingers anymore, mesmerized by Blaine's reaction to what he was doing to him. The more Blaine squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed against him, the more confident Kurt became. Kurt reached his free hand behind himself, grabbing Blaine's wrist and removing his fingers.

Blaine opened his eyes when he felt Kurt take his wrist and move his hand away. Kurt captured Blaine’s lips in a decadently sweet kiss. He walked Blaine backward a few steps and pinned him up against the tile wall of the shower. Kurt laced the fingers of his free hand with Blaine's, raising it above Blaine's head and holding it in place. His fingers inside Blaine he moved more confidently, pulling and pushing, scissoring and searching.

"Like this?" Kurt asked, crooking his fingers just so and massaging circles deep inside.

Blaine's eyelids shot open. He stared into Kurt's smiling face.

"Oh, God, Kurt!" Kurt loved the sound of Blaine's desperate moans echoing off the tile walls of the shower. "Yes, Kurt! Right there!"

Kurt circled, tortuously slow, over the same sensitive spot. He kept Blaine pinned to the cool wall with his body, in a position where the now warm water fell between them, sliding erotically over their skin. Blaine rambled against Kurt's lips as Kurt kissed him, his wrecked voice praising Kurt over and over.

"Yes, darling! Right there! Oh my God, that feels perfect. God, I love you. How have you never done this before? You're too good at this!"

Kurt smiled, couldn't stop smiling at the thought that he could give his boyfriend pleasure like this.

"Do you want another one?" Kurt asked.

Blaine nodded furiously.

"Yes, Kurt!" Blaine begged. "Yes, please, Kurt! Oh God, Kurt!"

Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes as he added a third finger. He could actually see Blaine's pupils blow wide as he slid his fingers into Blaine's tight heat. Blaine's hips stuttered forward. Kurt wasn't too sure how much longer Blaine could hold it together, if they would even make it back to the bed to make love.

Kurt moved his fingers inside Blaine, and Blaine's knees buckled. He wrapped a leg around one of Kurt's, pressing his shoulders further into the wall to keep himself standing. Kurt saw Blaine's gorgeous cock, wedged between their bodies, leaking and bobbing against his stomach. Kurt couldn't resist. He released Blaine's hand from above his head and wrapped his fingers around Blaine's length, stroking as he continued to press inside him.

"Kurt…" Blaine bucked his hips back and forth, shamelessly fucking himself on Kurt’s fingers and up into his fist, while moaning a chant of his boyfriend’s name. Kurt felt giddy. He could ride the wave of Blaine's euphoria to his own orgasm, but Blaine's hand on Kurt's wrist stopped him.

"Please," Blaine pleaded, stilling Kurt's hand even though his own hips wouldn't seem to stop moving, "if you don't take me to bed now, I'm not going to last."

Kurt pulled away from Blaine with a kiss, swallowing his slight hiss as Kurt removed his fingers.

Blaine switched off the water, and they both stepped out of the tub. Neither boy bothered to dry off as they fell onto Blaine's bed, arms wrapped around each other, kissing and touching and whispering into one another’s skin. Blaine grabbed a condom from seemingly out of nowhere and rolled it onto Kurt's erection.

"How do you want me?" Kurt whispered as he climbed over his boyfriend's wet body.

"From behind?" Blaine asked as he sucked the water off of Kurt's skin, along his cheek, down his neck, and over his shoulders.

Kurt lay behind Blaine, marveling for a moment at the view of his boyfriend from behind - one that Kurt didn't get as often as he’d like. His eyes swept over Blaine's muscular shoulders, down the line of his spine, to the soft swell of his rear. Kurt ran his hands down Blaine's back, feeling Blaine's muscles tremble with anticipation. Kurt palmed Blaine's ass, massaging his cheeks and spreading them gingerly. He could see Blaine's tight hole waiting for him.

"Please, Kurt," Blaine breathed.

Kurt held his breath as he lined himself up with Blaine's entrance, pushing forward gently. Kurt felt Blaine stretch around him, taking him in inch by inch, molding over his erection, tighter than he’d ever dreamed. Kurt exhaled quickly. The squeeze around his cock was overwhelming, the heat almost unbearable. Blaine rolled his head back till it rested against Kurt's shoulder, tossing back and forth, whimpering softly.

Kurt read the cues from Blaine's body, moving when Blaine relaxed, stopping when he tensed. He kissed Blaine's shoulders, ran his fingers along his sides, and inhaled the scent of his wet hair.

"I love you, Blaine," Kurt said, quivering as Blaine pushed back against him, sheathing the last few inches of Kurt's cock. "A little impatient?" Kurt teased.

"I just need to feel you," Blaine sighed. "Not that I can help it. God, Kurt, you're so fucking huge."

Kurt ducked his head into his boyfriend's shoulder, blushing candy apple red.

"You might have that a bit mistaken," Kurt countered. "You're pretty damn tight."

"How about we agree that we're both hot as hell, and get this party started?" Blaine chuckled.

Kurt laughed out loud. Both of their bodies shook together with laugher as they tried to recapture the mood. Kurt decided to take the first step by wrapping his fingers around Blaine's cock and stroking. Blaine stopped mid-laugh and moaned. Kurt pushed into Blaine's body apprehensively, then pulled back slowly. Blaine’s body went still, but his breathing sped up, his head rolling faster on Kurt's shoulder.

"Yes," he whispered. "Just like that. Just...just like that, Kurt. God...you feel…God..."

Kurt was speechless. Being inside Blaine, feeling the drag of his tight heat, Kurt had never felt anything like it. He’d never felt closer to anyone than this. It was like being caught in the haze of the most incredible dream with the most amazing person in the world.

Kurt relished watching his own body sway against Blaine's, his own pale skin flush against Blaine's tan back, brief glimpses of his cock working its way smoothly in and out of Blaine's tight hole, the way Blaine's muscles stretched as he arched into Kurt. The squeeze around Kurt's cock felt surreal. It made him lightheaded until he realized, for a moment, that he wasn't breathing at all. This time, _he_ was all around Blaine's body, and it felt empowering. Kurt was the one giving Blaine pleasure, controlling his orgasm. Kurt could touch Blaine wherever he wanted. He massaged Blaine's shoulders, kissed the nape of his neck, rolled his nipples gently between his fingers.  
  
Blaine writhed beneath Kurt's exploring hands and sensual kisses. He didn't imagine when he had asked Kurt to do this for him that Kurt would rise to the challenge so well. Blaine felt Kurt's heart racing, beating against his back. Kurt's hands roamed over Blaine's skin, kneading and teasing, and in some cases scratching. Blaine felt like one giant raw nerve, exposed and wanting, sparking with energy and life. When Kurt wrapped his fingers around Blaine's hard length and began to stroke, Blaine knew he wouldn't last much longer.

" _Nnnngh_!" he moaned, putting a hand on Kurt's hip, directing him to go faster, harder. Blaine bent over, changing position, and there it was - the spot he’d hoped Kurt would find, the one he’d found earlier in the shower. Blaine saw stars, spiraling and white hot, exploding in front of his eyes.

"God, Kurt!" Blaine dug his nails into Kurt's hip, covering the flesh with crescent indents. "There! Right there! Faster...please, God, faster!"

Kurt loved hearing Blaine beg, loved the sting of Blaine's nails digging into his hip. Kurt held tight to Blaine's cock and slammed into him from behind. Blaine's constant pleas of 'faster' and 'harder' melted into primal grunts. Sweat dotted Kurt’s brow as he pounded into Blaine, Blaine's hips stuttering, his ass clenching, and finally, his whole body convulsing. Blaine moaned Kurt’s name till it sounded like a prayer _and_ a curse, and Kurt almost laughed, overcome with ecstasy at making Blaine cum so hard.

Kurt pounded into Blaine's body a few more times before his own orgasm rushed over him, tingling from his toes to his head until his brain literally went numb.

"Sweetheart?"

Kurt couldn't hear Blaine over the ringing in his own ears, his voice barely cutting through the din.

"Kurt? Baby?"

Kurt's eyes were open, he knew that, but everything looked blurry and distant, swirling in front of his face in colors and patterns with fuzzy edges, but no discernible picture. Kurt knew that Blaine had pulled himself off of his cock, which disappointed him. He didn't want Blaine far from him. He had hoped to drift off to sleep still buried inside his boyfriend.

"Kurt? Baby? Can you say something, please?"

Kurt couldn't imagine why Blaine sounded so worried. He blinked once, then again, watching as the swirling images slowed, then stopped moving. The blurry patterns became sharp and clear, and he could finally see Blaine. His Blaine - his handsome boyfriend Blaine - looking down at him.

"There you are," Blaine said with a sigh of relief. "I was about to call 9-1-1. I thought you blacked out for a moment. You keep disappearing on me."

Kurt blinked some more and looked around. He was naked. Blaine was naked. The condom was gone. Blaine looked worried.

Kurt was confused.

"We-we were having sex, weren't we?" Kurt asked, his voice hoarse.

" _Making love_ ," Blaine corrected emphatically. "Yes, we were. But, I think you passed out."

Kurt furrowed his brow.

"Passed out?" he repeated. He tried to sit up, but the world suddenly decided to spin again, and he laid back down.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "Your eyes were open, but you were totally unresponsive. It kind of freaked me out."

Kurt gave Blaine a goofy, drunk looking smile, and Blaine kissed him gently.

"I think you need some sleep," Blaine grinned, "after that _mind-blowing_ performance."

"You thought that was mind-blowing?" Kurt asked.

"Definitely," Blaine said. "The most. And as soon as this is over, we have to do that again.” Blaine curled up in his boyfriend's tired arms, and snuggled against his chest.

"I don't know if we can technically classify what we did as making love though," Kurt murmured, his mind drifting swiftly off to sleep, "can you?”

"Kurt" - Blaine wrapped Kurt's arms tighter around his waist - "with you, there is nothing else. No matter how slow, or fast, or dirty" - Kurt giggled, and Blaine kissed his arm - "it's all _making love_.”

Wrapped up together in Blaine’s bed, minds clear of any thoughts of the race ahead, Kurt and Blaine fell quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Kurt's iPhone alarm went off at a quarter to seven. He was in no hurry to get up, but he _was_ naked, and the rest of the McKinley Crew would be arriving any minute. Kurt and Blaine dressed in silence, smiling shyly at each other when they caught the others' eye. Kurt chuckled to himself when he noticed how stiff Blaine looked, and that he limped slightly when he walked.

The entire McKinley Crew arrived at Blaine's house at exactly seven, cars pulling up to the curb out front one after the other. They sat solemnly and waited for Kurt and Blaine to get into their vehicles. No one really spoke before the drive to Westerville. They traveled two by two down the highway – Blaine’s Mustang and Kurt's Mustang in the lead, followed by Puck and Finn, Santana and Brittany, and finally Sam and Mike pulling up the rear. No one played their radios, and speed limits were strictly adhered to. No one knew what lay ahead, and no one wanted to think about the possibilities.

The McKinley Crew pulled on to the Dalton campus after nine o'clock, and rolled quietly toward the dorms, where a group of Dalton students were playing a late night game of football on the front lawn. One of the boys noticed the cars coming closer. He ran up the steps and into the brick building, in search of the Dalton Crew, but Wes was already on his way outside.

He seemed to be expecting them.

The McKinley Crew parked their cars in formation as Wes and his crew came out, gathering at the top of the steps and staring down on them like gods on high looking down at an inferior species. Wes eyed the cars with mild amusement until he noticed Blaine's Mustang, gleaming like black gold beside another blue Mustang that Wes just knew had to belong to Kurt. Wes scowled, clenching his jaw until a vein in his forehead throbbed.

"Well, well, well," he said as the group emerged from their cars and approached the steps. Dalton students from the football game gathered around, as did boys from inside the dorm. "I expected Blaine, and maybe his girlfriend, but I didn't expect the whole Scooby crew to make an appearance." Wes crossed his arms over his chest. “This really is a treat.”

"Wes," Blaine said, climbing the Dalton steps with Kurt by his side. He spread his arms in a peaceful gesture. "We need to put this to an end. Aren't you tired of this senseless fighting?"

"No," Wes said. "Because _I'm_ winning." The boys on Wes’s side snickered, the faces surrounding him smirking condescendingly at their unwelcome visitors, except for Sebastian, who stared almost uncomfortably at Kurt. "Actually, Blaine, I couldn't agree more. So why don't you get the hell away from my school, go back to that loser town you come from, and disappear?"

"You know, Wes," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hand, "I would totally be willing to do that, if I knew you'd leave Kurt alone."

Wes considered Kurt with an almost evil glint in his eye.

"Now, why would I do that?" Wes snarled. "That wasn't part of the agreement that Porcelain and I had here."  
  
"Wes" - Blaine stepped forward, blocking Wes's view of Kurt - "enough is enough. We used to be friends. Good friends. I'm not exactly sure why that changed, but things don't need to be this way. It's gotten out of hand." Blaine extended a hand, hoping Wes would take it and shake on it.  "Let's put this to an end."

Wes eyed Blaine's hand and its owner like a snake would a mongoose. He raised an eyebrow, and glanced back at his crew.

"And how do you propose we do that, Anderson?"

Blaine pulled his hand back to his side.

"A race," Blaine said. "A good old-fashioned you guys versus us race. Winner takes all. Loser stays off the winner's territory for good."

Wes bobbed his head in agreement a little harder than necessary.

"Sounds fair," Wes agreed, walking down the steps to meet Blaine eye to eye. "But I need more incentive. Let's make this interesting, you know, to ensure that you losers don't come back here after we win." The Dalton boys behind him snickered louder. "Let's race for papers."

Wes looked at the faces of Blaine's crew while his words took effect.

"Papers?" Blaine repeated incredulously. "Like, ownership papers?"

"Yup." Wes said with a condescending nod. "Ownership papers. Because I don't want to have to see your pathetic faces after we obliterate you and your crew."

The McKinley Crew stood behind Blaine, each member quietly considering their chances. Kurt looked at Blaine, knowing what was at stake for his crew, and that they were doing this mostly because of him. He saw a little of Blaine's resolve slipping, knew that Blaine was trying to think of a different way of settling this. Then Kurt looked at Wes, grimacing at how much he enjoyed just how badly he had Blaine trapped.

"I'll do it," Kurt said. "If it brings this to an end, then I'm in."

Wes waited, appraising the group with a smug grin.

"I have seven drivers ready to put up or shut up, and it looks like all you've got is yourself and your fairy prince, Blaine."

"And me," Puck said, stepping forward and putting a hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

"Me, too," Brittany said, bouncing over to Kurt and taking his arm.

"Where she goes, I go," Santana said, coming up behind her girlfriend and snaking a possessive arm around her waist.

Mike and Tina stepped forward, hand in hand. "He's got us."

"I think," Finn said, walking forward with Sam behind him, "he's got all of us."

"Alright then," Wes ground out through the clenched teeth of his forced smile. Blaine could see Wes's mask of confidence shift. "We'll pick seven of our drivers, and you pick seven of yours. Falchuk rules. First four cars over the finish line win for the entire crew."

"Fine," Blaine said. "Me, Kurt, Finn, Puck, Sam, Mike...and Brittany."

Brittany's eyes lit up.

Wes scoffed, and his crew behind him broke into a fit of laughing.

"You're wasting a spot on that little pink kitty car? Why don't you just hand me the keys to your Mustang now?"

"Have a problem with it?" Blaine sounded confident in his choices, and Kurt supported his boyfriend’s decision, but even _he_ was dubious about Blaine’s selection.

"Alright," Wes conceded, "me, Sebastian, David, Trent, Hunter…Cameron and his Boxster will take Monster’s spot” – at the mention of Monster, he scowled at Kurt – “and…Jeff."

Jeff's eyes went wide.

"No! I'm not doing it!" Jeff pulled himself to his full height and stepped away from Wes, dragging Nick behind him, shielding his boyfriend from view. "I'm not going to do this to my friends!"

Wes turned the full force of his glare on Jeff.

"Oh, you'll do it, Jeff," Wes growled, his voice so calm it was chilling. "You'll do it, and you'll win. You'll be the first car over that finish line, or I'll call Nick's parents myself...right now, as a matter of fact."

Jeff pulled Nick close to him and swallowed hard. He turned apologetic eyes on Blaine and Kurt, and shook his head. Kurt smiled, and nodded. Jeff dropped his head, torn, but he stepped in line with the rest of the crew.

"Okay," Wes said, clapping his hands in front of him. "It looks like we've got a race." The boys behind Wes cheered, except for Sebastian, who stared at Kurt holding tight to Blaine, and Jeff locked in Nick's embrace – real people taking risks, with real things to lose, things more important than egos and money.

Things that couldn’t be replaced.

Suddenly, winning this race didn’t seem like it should be the goal anymore – at least, not for Sebastian.

“Fine,” Sebastian grumbled. "Let's do this."

 


	34. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the start of the race guys! Squee!

"Where should we do this?" Sam asked.

"We'll have to get out of the city," David suggested.

"We'll take it down old Hanover Road," Wes announced. "The finish line will be Black Hills Courtyard, where it abuts the cemetery. We'll meet there in an hour."

"In an hour it is, then," Blaine agreed. "And may the best team win."

Wes stared at Blaine long and hard before scoffing, turning on his heel and striding away.

"What's Hanover Road?" Kurt asked as the group walked en masse to their vehicles.

"It's a windy road down the mountain," Tina explained, jogging to keep up with her boyfriend.

"Yeah. Drifters like to use it,” Sam explained. “Street racers don't usually go up there."

"And it's neutral territory," Finn added, pointing to a peak visible over trees in the distance.

"How do we know Wes's crew hasn't been there lately?" Kurt asked. "I mean, it's closer to Westerville than it is to Lima. They could be practicing there. Maybe that’s why he suggested it. They’d have an advantage."

"It's been closed for the past seven months because of a mudslide,” Puck said. “They just opened it about a week ago.”

“They don’t really have a reason to go up there,” Mike put in, breaking away from the group to get to his RX-7.

“And with everything going on, I don’t think they’d have the time," Finn said, clapping Kurt on the back.

It was a nice feeling, having this crew standing beside him, and their words gave Kurt some reassurance, but unfortunately not enough to undo the massive collection of knots Kurt’s stomach had become.

***

Blaine got to his Mustang ahead of Kurt and waited for his boyfriend, turning to watch the Dalton Crew head back into their dorm. That’s when he noticed Sebastian, standing alone on the steps, watching the McKinley Crew…correction, watching _Kurt_ leave. Sebastian’s eyes followed Kurt until he saw Blaine watching. Then he turned, bypassed the dorm, and headed for his car.

When Kurt finally caught up to Blaine, he threw his arms around him, sneaking his hands underneath his boyfriend’s shirt.

“Hey, baby. What’s up?” Kurt asked at the thoughtful expression clouding Blaine’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Blaine said, pulling his eyes from the spot Sebastian had been standing to devote his attention to Kurt. But the look on Sebastian’s face, that sullen expression of yearning, stuck with him. “I’m just…finalizing a plan.”

Blaine and his crew left Dalton and drove straight to Hanover Road. The McKinley Crew was the first to arrive. They parked their cars in a circle at the base of the mountain to discuss their strategy, pulling out their phones and bringing up a map of the mountain on Google Earth.

"Now," Blaine began, "it's pretty much a straight shot up the mountain except for one or two hard turns. The road on this side looks like its big enough for about two cars across; three if you're super careful. It's the other side that's going to be tricky. It's a single lane road that curves at almost 90 degrees at every turn. At the very end, there're three right turns, and then a sharp left. After that, it's just straight on to the cemetery."

"So, what's the plan, man?" Finn asked, smiling for a moment at his unintentional rhyme.

"I say we each take a car. We know we can't necessarily beat them with speed, so we'll have to outdrive ‘em. Box them in whenever you can. Keep them from crossing the finish line. If they get across after one of our cars, at least we still get the upper hand."

Everyone nodded in agreement, maneuvering through the course on their phones, trying to judge distances and memorizing where the most hazardous curves were on the track.

"Santana's going to be our eyes at the finish line."

Santana looked over at Blaine and winked.

"Send out a group text every time someone crosses," Blaine instructed. "Let's do _Teenage Dream_ for one of our cars, and _Bad Romance_ for one of theirs."

Santana chuckled sarcastically as she programmed her phone.

"Nobody use their NOS till the straight away," Blaine continued, "except you Britt."

Brittany perked up at the mention of her name.

"You hit your NOS right out of the gate. Get up the mountain as fast as you can and shoot down the other side. Wes's crew has already counted your car out. Maybe we can surprise them."

Brittany giggled in response.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Santana objected, eyes flicking up from her phone. "What about the turns up top? She'll hit them and go straight off the mountain!"

"No, she won't," Kurt interjected. "She's got a really weak NOS shot, and her car's light weight. It'll get her to the top, but it should wear down by the time she hits those turns.”

Kurt hoped his response inspired confidence.

Santana didn't seem convinced.

Brittany made shadow puppets.

Kurt felt the knots in his stomach tighten until he thought they would tear. In theory, it should work. He just prayed Brittany didn't get hurt if he was wrong.

"So, how do the rest of us match up?" Puck asked.

"I'll take Wes," Blaine said, to no one’s surprise. "He's all riled up. Maybe I can unnerve him enough that he'll mess up."

"I've got David," Finn said, raising a hand. "I'm pretty sure I can take his Integra."

"And Tina and I'll take Hunter's Silvia," Mike said, turning to kiss his girlfriend.

"Sam? Your Golf's got Thad."

"So it is written, and so it shall be done," Sam responded using his best Sean Connery impression.

"Do I get Sebastian?" Puck asked, pounding a threatening right fist into the palm of his left hand.

"No," Blaine said. "You've got Cameron. That little Boxster of his has got some kick, but he's not really good at handling it yet. With any luck, he'll take himself out."

"So, who gets Bas?" Santana asked, eyes traveling from person to person around the circle.

"I'm leaving Sebastian…to Kurt," Blaine said, putting a hand on his boyfriend's knee.

"What?" Kurt asked stunned. "Why?"

"Look," Blaine said, leaning in close, "we don't have a single car here that can take Sebastian's GT-R. But" - Blaine swallowed down a mouthful of guilt - "Sebastian still has feelings for you, Kurt. He doesn’t want to do this if it means hurting you. I can tell.”

Kurt shook his head. He got a taste of Sebastian’s feelings, but it was too difficult for him to completely believe. But if Blaine saw something…if he knew it, too…

“How do you know?” he asked.

“I…I can see it on his face,” Blaine admitted. “If you can manage to stay with him, maybe you can trip him up."

Kurt looked away, up at the stars overhead.

"That seems kind of mean,” Kurt said. _Unnecessarily mean_ , he thought.

"I know, baby," Blaine said, cupping Kurt's cheek and bringing his boyfriend back down to earth. "But it may be the only chance we've got."

“I understand,” Kurt said, and he did, but he still wasn’t thrilled by this decision.

Blaine wrapped a comforting arm around Kurt’s shoulders. "This will work," Blaine said, hugging Kurt close, but Kurt didn't know whether he was reassuring him or himself. "This will work."

Slowly people started to arrive. The crews had each sent out a mass text, announcing the race and asking for witnesses. The mountain was almost full of spectators before the Dalton Crew even showed.

Boys from Dalton crowded Wes's crew as six of their seven drivers arrived. Kurt marked off the cars in his head as they drove in, noticing that Sebastian's GT-R had yet to make an appearance. Wes led his group right up to the McKinley Crew, his cars surrounding theirs.

"So, you actually showed," Wes said, grinning through thin lips pulled tight over his teeth. "I thought as soon as I saw you guys high-tail it off campus that you were long gone back to Loserville." Wes looked at his own drivers and laughed. "That’s why we’re late. We almost didn't bother showing up."

"So, are you doubting your crew's abilities?" Finn prodded. "Because only six of your guys came anyway. You could just forfeit now and get it over with."

Wes's grin turned into a snarl. "You guys are going to regret challenging us when Bas gets here," he said with a smirk. "He's going to put all your little cars to shame."

Almost on cue, another car appeared. Both teams heard it rolling down the dirt road, turning on to the gravel path, HIDs aimed their way. The Dalton boys greeted Sebastian as he came on the scene, slowly maneuvering through the crowd of onlookers. Both crews turned and squinted, expecting to see the signature blue and red paint job of Sebastian's unbeatable GT-R.

Kurt recognized it first, and his jaw dropped. He grabbed Blaine's arm and squeezed. Then Blaine noticed it, too, and he silently cheered. He always knew that somewhere inside Sebastian Smythe beat the heart of a decent human being. Wes's triumphant grin faded when he caught sight of what Kurt and Blaine had already seen - Sebastian pulling up to join the crew…driving Kurt's Mitsubishi Eclipse.

Sebastian parked the car and killed the engine. Wes stormed over, his self-control hanging by a swiftly fraying thread.

"What the fuck, Bas? Where's your GT-R? Why are you driving the twink-mobile?"

"I'm making this race a little more fair," Sebastian said, unimpressed by Wes’s tantrum. "I want to give Kurt the chance to win back his car."

Wes got up in Sebastian's face, but Sebastian didn’t shrink away. After tonight, Wes wouldn’t be his captain anymore.

"So, that's it? You scared of losing your precious GT-R, Smythe? Or are you hoping to get into Hummel's pants that badly that you'll screw the pooch for the rest of us!?"

"Oh, fuck you, Wes!" Sebastian growled back. "Fuck you, fuck my GT-R, and fuck this race! This is the last time, Wes." Sebastian eyed the other drivers staring at them, but his eyes settled on Kurt. "Come on,” he said. “Let's get this over with."

"I don't know what to do Nicky," Jeff confessed into his boyfriend's neck. "I can't lose you now that I have you. I just can’t. But..."

Nick nodded when Jeff’s voice failed. He put a finger under Jeff’s chin and pulled his face up to meet his eyes.

"You have to do what's right," Nick said, moving a stray hair away from Jeff's eyes. "You can't let the bullies win."

"But..." Jeff hadn't even raced yet, and he already felt like he'd lost.

"I know you’re scared." Nick held Jeff's head in his hands, resting their foreheads together. "But we'll find a way. Together."

"Promise?" Jeff's voice was just a whisper. Nick pulled his boyfriend towards him, brushing his lips against Jeff's and kissing him gently. Nick felt tears fall from Jeff's eyes, gathering where their skin met as they kissed.

"I promise, Jeff. I'm never saying good bye to you."

Jeff sniffled. He wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders and kissed him on the forehead.

"Wait for me at the finish line, Nicky?" Jeff asked, gazing longingly into his boyfriend's eyes. "I have to go lose a race."

The drivers got in their cars and met at an established starting point. Santana left Brittany with a lingering good luck kiss before climbing into her Camaro and driving to the finish line. As she followed the route that Brittany and the guys would be racing on in just a few short minutes, she prayed that Anderson knew what he was doing when he came up with his piece of shit plan to put her girlfriend in danger.

The onlookers spread out around the mountainside, setting up positions in what they felt were the safest possible spots. Several people had created live links, and were using their phones to transmit video of the race to their Tumblr and blog spots, sending links via Facebook and Twitter.

Wes's girlfriend Cynthia arrived latest with some of her friends, which postponed the start of the race since Wes refused to start without her, claiming that Blaine wasn’t the only driver whose _girlfriend_ was his good luck charm. Cynthia took a moment to kiss her boyfriend in front of everyone, in the most obscene and pornographic way possible, before strutting in an insanely short skirt and platform heels to the starting line, having declared herself Grand Marshal. She unhooked her bra, pulling it out through the sleeve of her nearly see through shirt, and raised it in the air. Kurt rolled his eyes as he turned the key in the ignition of his Mustang, a smile of satisfaction spreading across his face when he heard the engine come to life, followed by Blaine's, and the rest of the crew down the line.

Dalton's cars came to life, too, but all at once - a tactic Blaine knew Wes used to unsettle the competition.

Drivers gunned their engines, anticipating the start of the race. Cynthia, illuminated in the headlights of fourteen cars, preened in her spotlight. She waved the white garment above her head. The roar of the engines grew louder and louder as drivers chomped at the bit to leap out of line. Cynthia stood stock still, enjoying the pause, bathing in the tension.

Without any warning, Cynthia tossed her bra in the air. The moment it hit the ground, fourteen drivers shot away. Brittany hit her NOS, and her Fit zipped off like a bullet, tires squealing as loudly as she did as her tiny pink car sped up the road. The Fit was up the mountain and cresting over the top to the other side before the rest of the cars had made it halfway.

Cameron's Boxster had been idling beside Brittany’s Fit. He was jittery, nervous, fidgeting in his seat with an itchy finger over his NOS release button. He didn't know the route, and he'd never really raced before. Once he heard Brittany's car take off, he jumped the gun, speeding out after her and hitting his NOS. Cameron didn't anticipate the first few turns and spun out at the top, hitting a side patch of gravel and shredding his front tires - the first casualty of war.

Now that Puck didn't have Cameron to worry about, he powered ahead, his Corvette managing to make it over the top of the mountain not long after Brittany. David and Thad pulled ahead of Finn and Sam, blocking them off as they climbed the mountain. Wes tried to shoot ahead of Blaine, and Sebastian nosed in front of Kurt, with Mike and Tina somewhere behind him, followed by Hunter and Jeff.

Most of the cars drove up the mountain road by twos, and Kurt noticed immediately that he was driving alongside a familiar blue car. Before that thought could completely register, a gold car streaked by his left, practically straddling the side of the mountain, threatening to teeter over the edge. Hunter's Silvia blew by the line of cars and flew over the top of the mountain so fast, Kurt could have sworn he saw it catch air.

Kurt turned to look at his old car and its new, conflicted driver. Kurt could see ahead of him the top of the mountain quickly approaching. Whether or not he could get ahead of Sebastian would determine his position on the other side, and he needed to find a way in front of the Eclipse. Kurt tried to do some figuring in his head, but the Eclipse had him beat no matter what, and Kurt knew it. Kurt turned back to Sebastian and caught his eye. Sebastian didn't look like the same smug, overly confident boy that Kurt had first met when he joined the Dalton Crew. This Sebastian looked sad, rejected, and full of regret.

Kurt glanced ahead to see David's Integra and Thad's Lancer make it over the top of the hill, but Puck and Finn behind them crowded each other too much, and they spun out on opposites sides of the road. They didn't look too bad off, but Kurt knew they would have to rejoin the race from behind the last car, effectively taking them out of the running.

Kurt’s gaze met Sebastian's, and for a split second, Kurt saw Sebastian waiting, searching for some sign that he had a chance, even a small one.

But Kurt shook his head with sincere remorse.

Kurt could have played him; he probably had every right, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He couldn’t be that cruel – not even to Sebastian. In his head, he apologized to Blaine for not doing the one thing Blaine had insinuated he should.

Sebastian deserved someone who could make him happy, just like everybody else, but Kurt couldn’t be that person, and he wasn’t going to let Sebastian think he was, not to win a race.

Sebastian's face crumbled. He gripped the steering wheel, preparing to make his move...

...and he did. He bowed his head and pulled the Eclipse over to the side of the road, letting Kurt's Mustang shoot out ahead of him and over the mountaintop, with Blaine and Wes directly ahead of him.

Sebastian threw the race for Kurt, and Kurt had no idea how he would ever repay him.

The drive down the mountain was nerve wracking, the squeal of tires on asphalt deafening. Even with his windows rolled completely up, the noise was enough to make Kurt want to scream, just so he could hear something else. Then there was the smoke from the friction of tires fighting to grab hold of any surface. Sprays of pebbles shot at his windshield, followed by some bigger chunks of asphalt dislodged by the recent construction, and at one point, Kurt feared that the glass would actually shatter. Kurt could barely see the car ahead of him, and when he caught glimpses, he saw Wes's blue and orange paint job. But every so often, he saw a peek of Blaine's black Mustang.

Wes's Supra was steadily catching up with Blaine. A few times, Wes tried to nose the rear of Blaine's car and force him to spin out. Kurt watched from behind Wes's car, desperate to catch up with his boyfriend, but the road was becoming more and more narrow with no turn out in sight. Kurt slammed his hand on his steering wheel and screamed, " _Fuuuuck_!"

Texts started coming in from the finish line. Kurt heard _Teenage Dream_ first, then again, and he knew Brittany and Puck had crossed, and that, most important of all, Brittany was safe. Then came _Bad Romance...Bad Romance..._

Kurt prayed for Katy Perry. One more. Just another...

_Bad Romance._

"Shit!" Kurt exclaimed. That would make Hunter, David, and Thad already past the finish line. “Shit, shit, SHIT!”

Blaine, Wes, and Kurt were still squealing down the mountainside, hitting the curves and drifting through. Kurt didn’t want to think about the strain on his axles. As long as he made it over the finish line, he would worry about getting his Mustang towed home if it ended up out of commission.

He just had to make it that far.

The three cars stayed clustered, close enough to make eye contact for a split second as they hit those 90 degree turns. Kurt tried to strategize on the fly, but it seemed impossible. They were neck-and-neck, Wes sandwiched in between, with no relief in sight until they got off the mountainside. By then it would be too late. They were approaching the final run - three right hand turns, one sharp left - then they would hit the flat road. But if he couldn't get ahead of Wes, his NOS would be useless.

They would be one car short, and Dalton would win.

 


	35. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we have come to the end of our tale. Warnings for sex at the end, and some homophobic comments. Oh and we get a few Niff scenes, cuz, I just love them :)

Kurt couldn't help watching Wes as he drove, steeped in a fascination bred from this unbearable tension. But as soon as he could get the anxiety in his chest to settle enough to let him think, Kurt began to notice a few things. Wes's Toyota Supra was built to drift. In fact, the Supra was a drifter's wet dream. Wes should definitely have had the advantage on this stretch of road, with its sharp turns, regardless of the uneven terrain. Kurt’s and Blaine's Mustangs were wide-bodied and bulky in comparison. They didn't hug the ground as well. By all means, they should have been the ones suffering. But every time the cars approached a turn, Wes anticipated the curve. He’d overcompensate his drift, and his car would almost skid out, losing him precious seconds in the recovery.

As they continued down the mountainside, Kurt began hatching a plan. Unfortunately, it would require a turn out, just a sliver of extra space somewhere on the shoulder of the road. Kurt didn’t know this road. He wasn't sure any such space existed on this stretch of the mountain. It was a risky plan to pin his hopes on something he wasn’t sure would be there when he needed it, but he had nothing else.

Blaine, Wes, and Kurt hit the turns, one after another. Each time, Wes nearly edged ahead, but Blaine had a lead foot, and for a street racer who drove solely American Muscle, he really knew how to drift his car. Kurt was going to have to consider exactly how much of a turn-on that was later when they were alone. But Kurt was right about Wes. Twice, Wes hugged the curve too close to the edge. His car almost slid too far and shot off the road. That's when Kurt saw it - a tiny window of opportunity up ahead. He broke out in a fit of frantic laughter when he spotted the exact thing he had hoped for – a cut in the road, extending the curve. Wes’s momentum would carry his car into it, making a space big enough for Kurt’s Mustang to sneak through, but only if Wes did what Kurt thought he would, and only if Kurt timed things right  
  
Three cars hit the sharp left, the final turn on the hill, all of them at the same time. Blaine took it like a champ, recovering immediately, but Wes anticipated the turn and overcompensated, the way Kurt had counted on. Wes’s car drifted clear out of his view. Kurt saw an opening, a chance to advance, and took his shot. He gunned his engine. His wheels hit a patch of loose gravel and fought for purchase, but his brand new Pirelli tires caught the ground. His Mustang whipped forward, passing Wes in a flash.

Wes saw Kurt in his powder blue Mustang trying to blow by him, and he screamed in frustration. He yanked his steering wheel sharply to the left, vision hazy with blind rage, intent on pushing Kurt's car off the mountain. His Supra slid smoothly across the asphalt, aimed straight for Kurt's rear. Wes planned to take off the Mustang's bumper and send Kurt's car careening out of control, the same way police officers did to a suspect in pursuit. Then Wes could be done with him once and for all. Maybe Kurt would die. Maybe he'd just break every bone in his stupid-ass twink body, but a broken Kurt meant a broken Blaine, and that was good enough for Wes.

Wes slammed on the gas, his car aimed at Kurt's like a laser shot, barreling toward his Mustang at full speed, but Kurt had acted earlier, and Wes missed him by less than an inch. Kurt's Mustang rocketed past, and for barely a split second, Wes's tires spun out in the dirt. The three cars turned on to the straight away, with Kurt in the new position ahead of Wes. Solely out of shock that his plan had worked, Kurt's head snapped to the side. Simultaneously Kurt’s eyes and Blaine's eyes locked. Kurt could see Blaine screaming at him, a word that looked a lot like, "Now!" and Kurt reacted. Without even having to search out its location on his dash, his hand slammed down on his NOS release button. Both Blaine and Kurt managed to hit their NOS at the same time, sending both Mustangs flying away before Wes could even think.

Wes froze, realizing what he had done, the time he had wasted trying to get revenge. His fingers fumbled over his dash and he hit his NOS, but it was too little, too late. Wes knew he had lost. The twin Mustangs blurred into the distance, headed for victory. But it wasn’t only Kurt and Blaine; their whole gang of fucking Lima losers had bested him. While Wes and his team flailed, Blaine’s crew had come up with a strategy. They trusted each other, they worked together, and in the end, they won.

The two Mustangs slid past the finish, the longer nose of Kurt’s car coming in just a hair ahead. Onlookers scurried to the sides to avoid getting plowed, cheering as they scrambled out of the way. Kurt's heart, lodged firmly in his throat the entire ride down the straight away, thrummed out a single, drilling beat. _Thump_ by _thump_ , it banished the terror from his body. The Mustang weighed more than his Eclipse, and several times he thought he might spin out or worse - flip over. As soon as he saw Brittany's pink car glowing in the moonlight, he knew the race was over. He and Blaine had left Wes in the dust, and now, they had won.

It was over.

Come what may, the feud was done.

Kurt's car drifted to a stop, and he cut the engine. He collapsed in on himself, hugging the steering wheel, crying with relief, his chest heaving with the weight of his uncontrollable sobs. Shaking and crying, squeezing his eyes tight, he didn’t hear the tap at his window.

“Kurt? Kurt, baby? We won!”

The car door opened, and strong hands pulled him out. Familiar lips claimed his, and a body, shaking like his, pressed against him. Kurt wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed him back, making a silent promise to never let him go.

Wes's car rolled in moments later, but no one seemed to notice. He and his car slunk off, away from the celebrating couple. The rest of the McKinley Crew crossed the finish line, honking their horns in celebration, having heard from Santana's texts that their crew had won.

Dalton's cars trickled in as well. A morose Sebastian and a defeated Jeff rolled by the McKinley Crew and parked beside Wes, preparing to turn over their vehicles. Wes stormed over to Sebastian and Jeff. Kurt saw him race by, and he knew this wasn’t going to end well for his friend. He longed to run over, but he felt helpless to do anything other than watch.

"I knew you were a loser, Sebastian!" Wes screamed. Cynthia grabbed Wes's arm, trying to tug him away and calm him down, but he wrenched his arm free with such force that she stumbled back, falling on her rear. "I should have fuckin’ sidelined you! I knew you were going to throw this race the minute you showed up in that fairy car!" Wes glared over Sebastian's shoulder at Jeff, who kept his head held high in the face of what he knew was coming his way. "And you," Wes roared, pointing a sharp finger straight at Jeff's chest, "are _worthless_!" Wes reached into his pocket for his phone. "Say good-bye to your boyfriend, you useless sack of shit!"

Before Wes could dial the number, Sebastian furiously snatched the phone away and tossed it. Over the din of onlookers racing down the mountainside to congratulate them, Kurt heard the phone hit the asphalt and shatter. He saw Wes's eyes, brimming with anger and shock, widening as Sebastian backed him up against his Supra.

"Leave him alone," Sebastian growled, his voice darker and more dangerous than Kurt had ever heard. "It's over. You lost. They won. Get over it."

Sebastian turned away, taking Jeff's arm as he passed and leading him over to a waiting Nick. Nick gave Sebastian a grateful smile and wrapped Jeff in his arms, kissing his boyfriend’s face anywhere his lips could touch.

Blaine waited for the spectators to back off, for the hugs and cheers to die down, before he approached Wes with Kurt in tow. Wes glared at Blaine and Kurt with obvious disgust. Blaine stretched out a hand. Wes thrust the title to his car in his direction, but Blaine batted it away.

"I don't want the damn car!" Blaine said. "I want this to be over! I want my friend again!"

Wes looked at Blaine and Kurt, standing in front of him. His eyes stayed cold, but Blaine hoped against hope that he saw a glint of something in them. Maybe he could break through the ice and get to him, to the Wes he used to know.

Wes sneered and tossed the paper in Blaine's face.

"Whatever," he said, rolling his head on his neck, walking off in the direction of his sour and discarded girlfriend. "Suck it, losers."

Blaine watched him go, leave without looking back. Blaine dropped his shoulders and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt said, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. “I know you were hoping for a different outcome.

“Yeah,” Blaine said. “I guess you can’t win them all.”

“True,” Kurt agreed, “but I think you won the important one.”

“Why do you say that?” Blaine asked, watching Kurt fish his phone out of his pocket and pull up a number.

“Because the race you won didn’t just affect you, or me, but all of your friends.” Kurt rested his head on Blaine’s shoulder as he composed a text. “You did a good thing, the right thing. And who knows? Maybe someday Wes will realize that.”

Blaine nodded, then motioned to Kurt’s phone. "What's up, darling?"

Kurt smiled shyly. "You know, you only call me _darling_ when we're having sex."

Blaine winked.

"Well, _darling_ " - Blaine repeated the nickname with emphasis - "I guess you know where my mind is." Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist. "So, who are you texting?"

Kurt shifted in Blaine’s embrace, trying to ignore, for the moment, Blaine's growing hard-on.

"Well, we all agreed that if we won, we'd sell off their cars and split the money. I'm texting that guy I used to flip cars with to come pick them up."

"Yeah, about that," Blaine said with a wicked gleam in his eye, "I've never met this guy. How long have the two of you been...uh...flipping cars?"

Kurt smacked Blaine on the shoulder with one hand as he pressed send.

"Shut up, Anderson," Kurt laughed. "Look at your life right now."

"I am," Blaine whispered, nibbling his boyfriend's neck. "And it looks pretty hot."

* * *

 

The title to Hunter's car was the easiest to get. He already had it in his outstretched hand when Mike and Tina approached.

"Uh…thanks." Mike took the paper, raising his eyebrows at Tina, who seemed equally bemused. Hunter turned back to his iPhone, barely acknowledging the couple.

"Like I care," Hunter grumbled. "My dad's buying me a Ferrari for getting into premed. He’ll just write this off as a charitable donation."

“Alright, then,” Mike said, leading his girlfriend away.

“Good luck in medical school,” Tina called back, and Hunter gave her a disinterested nod.

Sebastian made his way over to Kurt and Blaine. With a sad smile, he handed the keys to the Eclipse over to Kurt. Kurt closed his hand around them, the familiar feeling he used to get when he held them, that weight that always gave him comfort, gone.

"I don’t understand,” Kurt said. “Why did Wes give you my car?"

"I bought it from him,” Sebastian explained, “the day after you came by. Once the thrill wore off, he was willing to part with it for the blue book price.”

Kurt shook his head, more confused after that answer. Even without taking his mods into account, Kurt’s Eclipse, in its current condition, would set Sebastian back a bit. Kurt never could comprehend, considering the way he and his father had struggled most of his life, how tens of thousands were pocket change to these boys.

“But…why did you?” Kurt asked.

Sebastian shrugged. “I didn't want to see it destroyed." Kurt looked into Sebastian’s eyes, waiting for more, and Sebastian stared down at his feet. "I thought that, maybe, if I got it back for you, then..." Sebastian glanced up at Kurt and Blaine's linked hands. "But, I guess I never had a chance, huh?" He let out a small laugh.

Kurt shook his head.

"Nobody did," Kurt said, pulling Blaine closer to his side.

"I can see that." Sebastian shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes shimmering. He looked at Blaine, whose default glare for Sebastian seemed to have softened. Sebastian extended a hand Blaine's way.

"Congratulations," he said. “The better man won.”

Blaine took Sebastian's hand and shook it.

“Thanks, man.”

Blaine shook Sebastian's hand once more, then let go and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist. Sebastian turned to walk away, but stepped back at the last minute.

"Look, I know I behaved horribly, and I'm not asking you to forgive me, but if there's anything I can do to make up for it, please..."

Kurt glanced over at Jeff and Nick, holding on to each other for dear life. Jeff kissed Nick desperately, his chest heaving with silent sobs. Kurt could only imagine how Jeff felt. He knew what he had put in danger to help them.

"Yeah" - Kurt faced Sebastian - "there is one thing."

"Name it.”

"Keep an eye on Nick and Jeff. Don't let Wes do anything to hurt them." Kurt glanced back at the two hugging boys, with Sebastian and Blaine following suit. Nick gazed up at Jeff's face, wiping tears from his cheeks.

Sebastian nodded. "Will do."

Sebastian looked at Kurt one last time. Without warning, he moved in and kissed Kurt on the cheek. Kurt felt Blaine tense behind him, but Sebastian didn’t stay long, turning and walking quickly away.

Kurt's eyes followed Jeff and Nick, walking hand in hand back to Jeff's car. Nick rubbed Jeff's arm with his free hand, whispering words only his boyfriend could hear, with Jeff nodding from time to time. It broke Kurt’s heart to watch them. There had to be something he could do to fix this. They’d both sacrificed too much to lose out just because they were part of Wes’s team. Brittany and Santana suddenly crossed into his line of sight, blending into his view of Nick and Jeff, and giving Kurt a sudden stroke of inspiration. He broke away from Blaine and jogged over to the girls leisurely strolling towards Brittany’s car.

"Brittany!" Kurt called, catching up. "Do you remember that favor you owe me?"

"Of course," Brittany said.

"Well...can I use it now?"

* * *

 

Nick held Jeff's hand as Jeff gave a last long look at his beloved 300ZX.

"Don't worry." Nick said, reaching up to kiss the corner of Jeff's mouth. "We'll get you another one."

“Yeah,” Jeff said, unconvinced. “Okay.”

Both boys heard the click of high heels on asphalt coming up behind them as Santana and Brittany stalked their way, ready to collect the title to Jeff’s car. Brittany clutched Santana's hand, beaming ear to ear.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't another pair of pretty ponies," Santana smirked at the couple in front of her.

Brittany eyed Jeff's car, nibbling her lip and bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

"This is _such_ a pretty car," Brittany commented.

"Thanks," Jeff replied, hanging his head and squeezing Nick's hand a little tighter.

"You're Kurt's friend," Brittany continued. "He's a unicorn. So is Blaine. And I think maybe you are, too."

Nick eyed the girls, one, then the other, wondering why they were torturing his poor boyfriend this way.

Santana held out her hand, and Jeff lifted his, handing over the papers to his car.

"Hummel talks a lot about you," Santana said. "He says you're a real good guy, that you threw yourself into the fray for our boy Blaine."

Jeff nodded sadly. Brittany stepped away from Santana and peeked up into his face, putting a gentle finger to the fading welt beneath his right eye.

"Ouch," she said.

Santana held her hand out for Brittany, and Brittany took it.

"Santana," Brittany said, "you said I could have the car."

"Yes, you can, sweetie." Santana passed the title along to her. Nick's eyes followed it while Jeff stood stoically, staring at his feet.

"And I can do whatever I want with it?" Brittany asked.

"Whatever you want, baby," Santana confirmed. Brittany hopped up and down before stepping forward again.

"Then, I'm giving it back to you," she sang, handing the paperwork to Jeff. The blond boy snapped his head up, stunned. Brittany pecked him quickly on the lips and skipped her way back to Santana.

"Wh-what?" Jeff stuttered, with Nick stuck on stupid at his side. "But, you guys won. You have the right..."

"…to take your car and do whatever we want with it," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "And I did. I gave it to my girl Brittany, and she's giving it back to you."

Jeff couldn't speak, holding the title in his trembling hand. Nick stared at the girls, mouth open, but he, too, was speechless.

"Thank you," Jeff said finally, holding the title tight to his chest. "Just...thank you."

"Well, don't get all mushy on us, tiny dancer," Santana said, hiding her smile as she tugged Brittany's hand and led her away.

Jeff swept his head around, searching for an explanation. He caught a glimpse of Kurt, staring back at him, and smiled.

 _Thank you_ , he mouthed.

Kurt gave him a wink. He didn't feel it was necessary for Jeff to thank him. Jeff deserved to keep his car, and so much more.

* * *

 

The onlookers departed the mountain, and with them, the Dalton Crew. The McKinley Crew said good bye to their fearless leaders, leaving Kurt and Blaine to wait for the truck that would come and tow the Dalton cars away…all except Jeff's.

Jeff, who saw no reason to leave the conveniently dark and quiet mountain so soon, squirreled his boyfriend away somewhere deep into the shadows, out of sight. Kurt and Blaine watched with amusement as the two eagerly hurried off. After everything that had happened, after coming so close to losing each other, they could give a shit about stealth at this point, with Jeff’s shirt already mostly off, and Nick’s jeans unbuttoned.

Kurt couldn't be happier for them.

"So, you got your Eclipse back," Blaine remarked, looking from his boyfriend's smiling face to the now vacant mountain. One of the Dalton Crew had rescued poor Cameron and brought them his title. Blaine eyed the Porsche Boxster, sitting wounded in the distance.

"Yeah" - Kurt followed Blaine's gaze up to the silver car - "but I think I'm going to sell it along with the rest," Kurt said dismissively. "You know, to make up for giving Jeff back his car."

Blaine furrowed his brow.

"But why?" Blaine asked. "You love that car."  
  
"Because" - Kurt gazed deep into Blaine's honey gold eyes - "I think the Mustang's a little more my style."

Blaine grinned as he looked down at their linked hands.

"I think it is," Blaine agreed, inching closer. "And I have to admit, the Mustang makes me hot."

"I know it does." Kurt leaned forward and claimed Blaine's lips, humming as they softly moved with his.

"And the best thing about it," Blaine whispered against Kurt's lips.

"Back seats?" Kurt finished.

"Mm-hmm. By the way, when did your friend say he was going to get here?"

"About an hour." Kurt walked Blaine backward toward his Mustang, fumbling behind him for the door handle.

"Mmm" - Blaine moved his hands down to Kurt's ass and pulled him close - "I think that'll be enough time. More than enough if you curse for me, darling."

Kurt dragged his boyfriend into the back seat of his car, and Blaine pulled the door shut.

_Eight months later_

New York in July was hot. Hotter than Kurt had ever expected. Every window in their small apartment was open, but the air hung heavy, drenched with humidity, no breeze anywhere to cool his overheating skin. The tiny oscillating fan they’d bought did nothing but move the stagnant heat around. The friction against his sweaty back was almost unbearable, but not enough to make him want to stop.

Blaine had been moving in and out of Kurt's body for the better part of an hour, and Kurt was delighted that he didn't really see an end in sight. But even though Blaine said he craved Kurt 24/7, Kurt was sure his boyfriend had ulterior motives.

" _Nnnngh_ , Blaine," Kurt moaned, circling his arms behind his head to cradle Blaine's neck, "I love a good fuck fest as much as the next horny gay, but don't you think we should unpack at some point?" Kurt swept his eyes around the room at the wall of unpacked boxes.

"No," was Blaine's brief and pointed answer.

"I... _uh, God_... I never realized it was going to be so hot out here," Kurt complained, leaning into Blaine's mouth as Blaine sucked a mark onto Kurt's shoulder. Blaine reached behind him to a bowl on the nightstand that an hour ago had been filled with ice, but was now overflowing with frigid water. He dipped his hand inside, cupped out some of the cool liquid, and poured it over Kurt's side. Small rivers of ice cold water dribbled across Kurt's chest and stomach, cooling Kurt down, but only in those spots. Still, it was better than nothing.

"Thank you, baby," Kurt purred, leaning his head against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine ran the backs of his fingers along Kurt's skin, chuckling when Kurt giggled at the ticklish sensation.

"You know," Kurt continued, stretching out like a cat against the relaxing movements of his boyfriend's body pushing into his, "I can't help but... _mmmm_...think that maybe... _oh yes_...you're doing this to keep up with the neighbors."

As if spurred on by the mention of their existence, a dual moan rang through the paper thin walls, along with a couple of loud, rhythmic bangs as a headboard made contact with the plaster.

"Yeah, well," Blaine mumbled against the shell of Kurt’s ear, "Jeff and Nick are just lucky they could get the apartment next to ours. I'm not sure anyone else would be able to stand that."

Jeff and Nick had arrived shortly after six in the morning. From what Kurt could tell, they had jumped immediately into bed...and hadn't gotten out since. At nearly eight in the evening, Kurt was certain they'd have to take a break to eat.

As it turned out, apparently not.

Kurt chuckled as the banging continued, and a faint chant of, "Yes! Jeff! There, Jeff! God, Jeff!" filled the air.

"God, Nick," Blaine muttered, thrusting harder with annoyance, "I'm sure your super hung boyfriend knows his name by now."

Kurt bit his lip so as not to retort. Blaine also had a habit of singing Kurt’s praises during sex in the form of a long repetitive grunt of Kurt’s name, but now didn’t seem like the time to point that out.

Blaine had been present at Kurt and Jeff’s NYADA auditions in the April Rhodes Auditorium at McKinley. After Kurt's flawless rendition of _Not The Boy Next Door_ , complete with a pair of tight gold pants that made Blaine salivate, Jeff had performed two routines - one classical, one hip-hop, both while wearing extremely tight Spandex skinny jeans.

Blaine dug his nails into his thigh as he watched his boyfriend follow Jeff's every move in those obnoxious pants that left nothing to the imagination. For days, he had to listen to the praise that Kurt heaped on Jeff through numerous phone conversations, soothing Jeff's rattled nerves as he waited to hear whether or not he had gotten accepted.

He got in, of course. Jeff was an amazing dancer. And he had driven all the way to Kurt's shop just to leap out of his car, grab Kurt around the waist, and spin him around in the air.

If Blaine didn't love Jeff like a brother, he'd hate him with a burning passion.

Of course, when Kurt found out that Blaine had applied for and gotten accepted to the music therapy program at NYU, he had spent the following hour on his knees congratulating him, so Blaine couldn't be too sore about a little hug.

Blaine ran his fingers down Kurt's heated skin, kissing over Kurt's shoulders.

"Kurt" - Blaine spoke so softly that Kurt almost didn't hear him - "are you happy?"

Kurt's racing heart stuttered at the question. He smiled, struggling to decide whether or not he should keep hidden something Blaine didn’t know he knew.

"Are you still planning to ask me to marry you after graduation?"

Blaine stopped moving.

"H-how did you find out about that?" Blaine asked.

"I may have heard you talk to my dad about it."

Blaine stayed still, snaking his arm around his boyfriend's chest.

"Do you love me?" Blaine held Kurt close.

Kurt laced his hands over Blaine's arm.

"More today than yesterday," Kurt responded honestly, "and only a little less than I will tomorrow."

"Then, yes, Kurt" - Blaine kissed Kurt's shoulder - "it is absolutely my intention, after we graduate college, to become an Anderson- _Hummel_."

Blaine got a sudden surge, and started a maddening pace in and out of his boyfriend's hole, sending shivers up Kurt's spine, but nowhere near where Kurt needed Blaine's cock.

"So, you've been eavesdropping, huh?" Blaine grinned wickedly against Kurt's skin so he could feel it brand his shoulder.

Kurt bit his lip harder, not thinking that he would be punished for his revelation.

"Um...is it too late to apologize?"

"That depends," Blaine growled, "am I going to have to listen to you tell Nick again how sexy Jeff's tongue piercing is?" Blaine slammed into Kurt's body, barely brushing that sensitive spot where Kurt needed attention.

That gave Kurt his answer.

"So," Kurt panted, squirming beneath Blaine's assault, "are you going to let me cum anytime soon?"

"Well, darling, _anytime soon_ doesn't look too good for you, and the next hour is shaping up as kind of bad. Just plan on being here for the rest of the evening."

Somewhere around one in the morning, Kurt fell asleep, sweaty but sated, in his boyfriend's arms, dreaming of their long and happy future.

It was a beautiful thing.

 _The end._  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special as ever thanks goes to my beautiful, amazing, wonderful proof reader/slash editor - my husband Jon, who for the simple love of his adoring wife, powered through numerous uncomfortable sex scenes to bring you this masterpiece here :)


	36. Chapter 34

**A/N:** _Hey! Anybody waiting for the sequel, I should have it up by the beginning of next year, but in the meantime I have posted a bunch of one-shots and drabbles that fill in the years between high school and senior year of college if you want to check it out! It's listed as Need for Speed Drabbles. Take a look :) But here's a sneak preview of what we can see in Need for Speed: New York._

"I wish we could get a bigger place," Nick complained, taking his coffee and muffin from the barista. He followed Kurt to an empty table in the corner by the window where they could watch the rain pound the pavement, cleaning away the early morning grime from the glass. "Then Jeff could dance at home. We need more space to move around, you know."

Kurt looked at his friend and raised his eyebrows.

"More room to move?" Kurt said, opening the lid to his coffee and taking a deep breath in, sighing in contentment. "You mean, you guys ran out of places to have sex, right?"

Nick gave Kurt a pointed look as he glanced around the room nervously.

"No, but we're spending all of our time at the dance studio at NYADA." Nick shrugged. "I have to admit that it's nice though. I get to watch Jeff practice, it's quiet, and George the janitor has been helping me with my homework."

Kurt unfolding his paper, snapped his head up to look at Nick.

"Your law homework?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah," Nick said smiling. "Did you know he majored in criminal law and bio engineering before deciding to become a janitor at NYADA? He says it's like going to the Met everyday for free, so the decision was easy."

Kurt giggled, looking back down at the ads. Nick glanced out the window again.

"I don't know, though. I just think...maybe Jeff's getting a little tired of having me hang around all the time, you know? With him at school? It would be nice to just...stay in."

"Why do you think Jeff's getting tired of you?" Kurt said as delicately as he could through a mouth full of muffin. "From what we hear through the walls, you guys don't ever get tired."

Nick blushed.

" _And_ ," Kurt continued, "do you know how embarrassing it is to walk to school every day with Jeff and his incredible hard-on? Seriously, Nick. It's like every morning."

"Well going to school with _your_ boyfriend isn't much better," Nick argued.

Kurt looked up momentarily.

"Touche."

Kurt glanced down at the listings in the paper and stumbled on one that looked interesting.

"Nick, when are you due in court?"

"Not until this afternoon." Nick tried to look at the ad Kurt was reading. "Why?"

Kurt pulled out his phone and started dialing a number.

"What are your feelings on Bushwick?"


	37. An Unlucky Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Misc one-shot. Takes place sometime after the car race is won. Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble Challenge Day 12 "Loft". Also features a completely silent Nick Duval.

_“He’s never going to make it.”_

_“Of course, he’s going to make it.”_

_“He was on the football team at school, of course he’s going to make it.”_

_“What does football have to do with golf?”_

_“I’m just saying, he…”_

“Will you shut up?” Kurt hissed, quieting the whispers of his friends as he tried his hardest to concentrate on his ball.

Silence fell among the onlookers, waiting for their turn.

Kurt took one practice swing.

Then another.

He held his breath, biting his lip, eyes fixed in deep concentration.

Another swing…a bigger swing…this was definitely it.

_“I’m telling you, it’s never going to make it…”_

That last distraction threw Kurt’s game. He chipped the ball, which lofted high in the air, hitting the windmill, bouncing off the castle window, knocking off the clown’s nose and heading straight for the parking lot.

All four friends stood stock still as they awaited the consequences of Kurt’s shot.

When they heard the car window break, and the alarm go off, all four of them dropped their clubs and bolted.

As they ran for the far parking lot, away from the now gathering crowd, Blaine slid Jeff a $10 bill.

Jeff smirked.

“I told you he wasn’t going to make it.”

 


	38. Yes or No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is also a one-shot that occurs sometime after the car race. It gives us a fleeting glance at how Wes's attitude might change by the sequel ;) A Niff one-shot written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts "vodka", "whisper", and "yes". Rated M.

Jeff’s lips on Nick’s skin steals all of his resolve. As long as Jeff keeps kissing him, there isn’t a thing Nick would say ‘no’ to…except…there’s something he wants…something he’s been dreaming about, he just can’t find a way to ask for it.

Jeff knows. He knows Nick is holding back, but a hundred and one kisses and nearly an hour of Jeff fondling Nick through his jeans still won’t get Nick to talk. That doesn't matter though because Jeff knows that the fun part is the coercion, and Jeff is more than willing to try.

“Nicky…” Jeff coos as he licks lightly over the shell of Nick’s ear with his tongue, “tell me…”

Nick doesn’t want to say no to Jeff, so he simply says, “I can’t.”

“Nicky…” Jeff sounds hurt when he pulls his boyfriend close, “you know you can ask me for anything.” Jeff pouts as he looks deep into Nick’s hazel eyes, and Nick can’t help a small giggle at the ridiculous look on his adorable boyfriend’s face.

“I know,” Nick says quietly before Jeff kisses him again, paving a trail of soft pecks down his neck, “it’s just hard to ask for this.”

Jeff bites his lip, considering Nick thoughtfully.

“You could always whisper it to me,” Jeff says softly into Nick’s ear. The low, seductively sweet tone of Jeff’s voice makes Nick melt.

Nick wants to say it, but his mouth won’t let him. He shakes his head, cheeks flushing pink as he imagines the words coming out of his mouth.

Jeff sighs, trying to think of another way.

“I think Wes has some vodka in his room,” Jeff suggests. “I could give you a little…just enough to make you relax…and then you could tell me…”

Nick can’t help the rush of blood that pools hot in his stomach, and then splits – half rising up to color his cheeks, half shooting straight to his cock, making him achingly hard. The idea of being tipsy around Jeff, letting go of his inhibitions, loosening up until he could confess all his deepest, darkest, and even kinky secrets to Jeff is incredibly tempting, but no. He has a huge calculus final in the morning and he needs to think straight.

Nick’s silence is Jeff’s answer, but it doesn’t matter, because his next idea is a better one.

“I’ve got it,” he says triumphantly, moving to straddle Nick’s hips and look down into his face. “How about we play ‘Yes or No’?”

Nick holds his breath.

 _‘Oh shit!’_ he thinks, squirming internally.

“O-okay,” Nick stutters out, trying to push himself as far into the mattress as he can, praying it will read his mind and swallow him whole.

Jeff smiles brightly, sitting up high and clapping his hands together.

“Now let me think, Nicky…”

Jeff watches Nick’s face, the red streaks on his cheeks, the way his lips part when he’s nervous or excited, the way his eyes flick down to Jeff’s mouth and then dart quickly back to his eyes.

Jeff grins wider now. His beautiful Nicky…Jeff can read him like a book, and if he’s right, he loves where this story might be headed.

“Does it have to do with my mouth, Nicky?”

Jeff’s tone is seductive, sultry, a voice he saves only for Nick and no one else.

Nick swallows hard in response. He tries to shift his weight and move further down the bed before Jeff can feel his response, but little gets by Jeff in this position.

“Hmm,” Jeff hums appreciatively, “or maybe my tongue?”

Jeff licks his lips slowly, and then takes a moment to fiddle with the bar piercing in his tongue.

Nick shifts again, moaning softly.

Jeff nods.

“I think I may be right,” Jeff says, leaning down low over Nick’s body, licking gently over the seam of his lips.

“Am I right, Nicky?” Jeff asks.

Nick wants to pinch himself…make his mouth move. He manages a strangled sounding, “Yes.” It’s enough for Jeff. He moves down over Nick like a cat, retreating smoothly, brown eyes locked to Nick’s whiskey colored ones as they watch him, growing wide as saucers the farther Jeff travels.

“So I know _what_ you want,” Jeff teases, “I just need to figure out where.”

Jeff pulls off Nick’s t-shirt, grabbing it and yanking it so quickly over his head that a shocked Nick has no time to complain. Jeff pulls off his own shirt, tossing it away. He leans over Nick’s body and licks small circles over Nick’s nipples.

“Here, Nicky?” Jeff asks between licks, feeling Nick arch his back to follow Jeff’s tongue.

Jeff looks into Nick’s eyes as he shakes his head.

“No?” Jeff takes his tongue further, licking a long stripe down Nick’s chest to the waist band of his pants. Jeff dips his tongue below the elastic of Nick’s boxers, feeling him quiver.

This time Nick drums up the strength to answer.

“No, Jeff,” Nick says, and even though his voice is soft and shuddery, Jeff feels his entire body stir.

“Okay…”

Jeff hooks his fingers into Nick’s underwear and pulls them down his legs to join his shirt on the floor, stripping his own off slowly beneath Nick’s hungry gaze. Jeff’s eyes travel down Nick’s naked body. He breathes in quickly, loving the look of his boyfriend’s beautiful cock, hard and waiting for him.

“Well, I know you don’t want it here…” He teases over the head of Nick’s length with small circles. Nick throws his head back and moans louder this time. “…because we already did that.”

Jeff hovers, still teasing, waiting, hoping that Nick will just summon the courage to tell him. The sound of Nick’s incredible tenor voice, broken, wanton, asking Jeff to eat him out would be like heaven to Jeff. So he waits, still licking, still teasing, still looking boldly into Nick’s eyes.

“Just ask me, Nicky,” Jeff says. “You know I’ll say yes.”

Nick hesitates. As horrified as he is to ask, he wants it…he wants it so badly. He licks his dry lips, Jeff’s mouth teasing his cock making it so wonderfully difficult to think.

Jeff doesn’t want Nick to suffer. With a sly smile he begins to move, but Nick stops him with a gentle hand grabbing a fist full of his blonde hair. Jeff looks confused.

“Jeff,” Nick says, his voice unintentionally smooth and shameless, “Jeff, could you eat me out?”

Jeff’s smile is hungry, wolfish, carnal and lustful while still hopeless with love and affection.

“Turn over for me, baby?” Jeff asks, patting Nick on the hip.

Nick turns over onto his stomach on wobbling knees, his whole body vibrating with need and a touch of fear. Everything with Jeff is so wonderful and new. Nick doesn’t want to bore Jeff…or worse, disgust him.

Nick settles onto his stomach. Jeff rakes his nails lightly down Nick’s back, making him arch and keen.

“Oh, God, Nicky,” Jeff purrs as he climbs off the bed and pulls Nick towards him. “You’re so hot.”

Nick blushes red at the compliment, at the way Jeff moves him around the bed, tension building in his stomach as he waits for the first tentative press of Jeff’s tongue at his entrance. He anticipates it when he feels Jeff’s firm hands pull his cheeks gently apart and hears him hum appreciatively. What he doesn’t expect is the greedy mouth that’s suddenly devouring him, lips sucking, tongue exploring, filling him with incredible heat, burning so hot he doesn’t know how he will last.

“Jeff!” Nick squeaks, but the high-pitched yelp of surprise becomes a moan, and Nick writhes beneath Jeff’s tongue, at the way his hands knead his flesh a little too roughly, and the metal ball that rubs along his sensitive skin. He feels Jeff latch over him, tongue thrusting through the tight ring of muscle at Nick’s entrance mercilessly, a now free hand sneaking beneath Nick’s body to take charge of his neglected cock and stroke slowly.

Nick claws at the blanket beneath him so hard that he actually breaks through the fitted sheet, tearing it partially in half. He can feel Jeff giggle at the sound of fabric tearing, and the vibrations of it race beneath Nick’s skin.

“Oh, Jeff!” he moans, every muscle shaking as he tries to pull away from the too much incredible sensation of Jeff’s mouth. “God, Jeff! I’m going to cum!”

“Go ahead, baby,” Jeff moans, loving the sound of Nick’s desperation, letting it feed him as he pulls Nick apart, his tongue delving deeper, moving faster, his hand stroking slowly as Nick tries his hardest to fuck into Jeff’s grip.

Nick whimpers and Jeff groans, the idea of Nick so tortured turning Jeff into a wrecked mess, searching for friction anywhere he can find it…against the sheets, against the bed, until he has to abandon his grip on Nick’s ass to stroke over his own aching cock.

“Yes, yes, yes…” Nick chants into the open air, pulling the sheets off the bed as he cums, pushing back against Jeff’s mouth when he feels him suddenly falter. Jeff groans loud against Nick’s skin, pulling away and breathing deep. With not even enough energy left to climb back up onto the bed, Jeff sprawls out onto the floor. Nick crawls down with a blanket to join him, wrapping it around Jeff’s spent body, falling into Jeff’s waiting arms.

“Why…why did you do that?” Nick pants. “So fast like that?”

“You didn’t like it?” Jeff asks, mostly sincere but teasing slightly.

“You know I did.” Nick ducks his head a bit.

“I didn’t want you to overthink it…you, know…and chicken out.”

Jeff moves in quickly to kiss his boyfriend, but Nick backs away.

“I…I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet,” Nick admits. Jeff nods in understanding, lifting Nick’s hand to his lips to kiss across his knuckles. Nick watches Jeff curiously.

“Just out of…because I…um…how do I…”

“How do you taste?” Jeff is blunt, and Nick’s cheeks burn again when he nods.

“You taste like _you_ , Nick.” Jeff moves on to kiss the other hand while Nick watches. “Soft…and clean…and just amazing.”

Jeff’s eyes flick up to meet Nick’s. Jeff tilts his head to the side slightly.

“I have a question for you,” Jeff says, his eyes hooded, “Yes or no? Would you ever want to do that again?”

Nick tries to match Jeff’s sinful gaze and smiles.

“Definitely, yes.”

 


	39. Wishing for the Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Niff one-shot that takes place New Year's Eve of their senior year (after the race).

Jeff smiled as Nick shivered beside him. He shrugged off his denim jacket and wrapped it around Nick’s shoulders.

“You know, we could still go to Blaine’s for the tail end of the party,” Jeff offered. “We can have a few beers, watch the ball drop…I’m sure it’s much warmer than sitting out here and staring at the Auglaize River.”

“I-I know,” Nick stuttered through trembling lips. “J-just a few m-more minutes, and then we c-can go.”

Nick shifted his position on the hood of the silver car, trying to get the blood circulation back in his legs. Jeff rolled his eyes and snaked an arm around Nick’s shoulders, pulling him in close. Nick’s cold and rigid body melted immediately against Jeff’s, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Not that I don’t enjoy being alone with you in the pitch black and freezing cold,” Jeff started, “but what exactly are we waiting out here for?”

Nick looked down at his knees, bent with his legs pulled up beneath him. They had been sitting out in the cold for over two hours, and he was beginning to feel a little silly.

“I was…well, I was maybe hoping that we might see…uh…”

“A what, Nicky?” Jeff turned to his boyfriend, a tiny smile curling his lips.

“A falling star,” Nick admitted quietly.

Jeff’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“A falling star?” Jeff repeated. “Why did you want to see a falling star?”

“I just…wanted a little luck…for us.” Nick sighed, bowing his head even more. “Now that I say it out loud, it sounds stupid.”

“Nicky,” Jeff admonished softly, “nothing you could say would ever sound stupid.”

Nick’s gaze stayed locked on his knees while Jeff’s eyes searched the skies, trying to find an elusive star for his boyfriend.

“Maybe we should go,” Nick said, starting to slide out of Jeff’s grasp and off of the car.

“No,” Jeff said petulantly, pulling Nick between his legs and scooting as far up the hood of the silver ZX as he could. “You want a star, Nicky, we’ll find you a star.”

“You mean that?” Nick turned to look into Jeff’s face, cheeks red and ruddy from the cold; shining brown eyes sweeping the night sky.

“Of course I mean it.” Jeff started to shiver, too. He held Nick tight in his arms, willing away the cold.

Nick sighed, smiling wide and shaking his head.

“No, Jeff,” Nick said, pulling Jeff reluctantly from the hood of the car, “we should go before you freeze to death.”

“A-are you sure?” Jeff’s teeth chattered as the pair unfolded from each other’s arms, warmth escaping as their bodies parted.

“Yes,” Nick said, nodding his head. “Positive. Maybe we don’t need a falling star for luck. Maybe we can just make our own luck.”

“And what would you wish for?” Jeff asked, eyes glued to a spot in the sky. “If you saw a falling star?”

“That’s easy.” Nick stepped close to his boyfriend, circling his narrow waist with denim clad arms. “NYADA for you. NYU for me. And a long, happy future for us both in New York.”

“Good…” Jeff turned Nick in his arms and pointed to the sky. “I think you just made your wish.”

Nick’s eyes went wide at the sight of several silver streaks shooting across the black night sky, each one burning bright for barely a second before disappearing into the inky dark.

“A meteor shower!” Nick exclaimed with delight. “I can’t believe it! What crazy…”

“Luck?” Jeff finished.

Nick chuckled.

“I guess so,” he said, shaking his head.

“Do you really want that?” Jeff asked softly. “A long and happy future…with me?”

Nick tilted his head to look into his boyfriend’s eyes.

“I always have,” Nick confessed. “And I still do…for as long as you want to be with me.”

Jeff turned Nick back around and kissed him, his tongue soft and warm against Nick’s cold, quivering lips, as he gently licked across the seam of Nick’s mouth. Nick hummed happily as Jeff kissed him, content to freeze to death in his boyfriend’s arms as long as Jeff kept kissing him.

“D-do you think if we haul ass to Blaine’s he’ll let us have one of the g-guest rooms for the n-night?”

Nick bit his lip at the look of lust in his boyfriend’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Only one way to find out,” Nick said, tugging suggestively on Jeff’s lower lip with a gentle nibble. Jeff moaned, suddenly warm all over as he led Nick to the passenger’s side door and opened it so Nick could quickly slip in. Jeff slid over the hood and into the driver’s side door in record time, firing the engine to start up the heater. He shivered once when the air blew out cold, but the car quickly heated up and both boys shed their sweaters. Jeff rolled his neck on the head rest and looked at Nick, sitting beside him, flexing his fingers as they tingled from the heat.

“What’s wrong, Nicky?” Jeff asked.

“Nothing. My fingers are still a little cold.”

Nick looked over at Jeff and smirked. Quickly Nick leaned over and pulled at Jeff’s button fly, shoving his cold fingers into Jeff’s boxer briefs and wrapping them around Jeff’s cock.

“Jesus, Nicky!” Jeff squeaked, bucking his hips in shock. “Your fingers are freezing!”

“They aren’t now.” Nick raised his eyebrows, slowly moving his hand over his boyfriends cock, feeling it grow beneath his chilly fingers. “Maybe you can take me to Blaine’s and warm the rest of me up.”

Jeff’s breathing shuddered at his boyfriend’s uncharacteristically seductive tone.

“Hell, yeah!” he said, throwing the silver car into gear and racing out onto the street. “But if you’re going to keep doing that, pray I don’t kill us before we get there.”


	40. Home Is Your Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school is over, New York is almost upon them, and Blaine discovers some important information that causes him to make a few (rather large) changes.
> 
> Takes place after the original story, before Kurt and Blaine leave Ohio for college.
> 
> Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt 'hope'. This one-shot closes some gaps in the original story line, namely minor back story about Blaine's family, what really happened to the elusive Mrs. Pamela Anderson, and, oh yeah, doesn't Blaine have a brother?

“Are you sure you want to do this, baby?” Kurt asked, rolling on to his side and watching his boyfriend chug his second beer. Blaine only ever drank the two – not enough to make him fall down drunk, but just to make him feel a little more mellow, a little less stressed.

That, coupled with the gorgeous, naked body of his boyfriend lying beside him post-coitus, was all the inebriation Blaine needed.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to take it back now, darling,” Blaine laughed. “The house goes on sale tomorrow. Most of the furniture is already gone.” Blaine’s eyes flicked around his room, the only one in the house that still had most of its furnishings – a dresser, a chair, his desk, a nightstand, a standing lamp. But everything else, his bed included, had been sold on Craigslist, and was now the property of Patricia Billings, a resident of North Lima, purchased for her son John, and at a steal if Blaine did say so himself. But Blaine didn’t need the money, so he really didn’t care. “No use canceling the sale so I can own a huge, empty house, and for what? Coming back during the summer? Hanging over Christmas break when we should be camping out at your dad’s? Nu-uh. Good bye, good riddance.”

“Still,” Kurt insisted, “I’m sure we could pull some strings if you…”

“What’s done is done,” Blaine said, cutting Kurt off more forcefully than he normally would. When he saw the hurt in Kurt’s eyes, he blew out a long, tired sigh, and put his beer bottle on the floor. “I’m sorry, darling,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay,” Kurt said. “I mean, you’ve already made up your mind. And it’s _your_ decision. I shouldn’t be bugging you about it.”

Blaine didn’t mean to snap, but he was so done talking about this. Kurt wasn’t the only one who had made a comment about Blaine selling the house, but he was the least annoying about it. Sam got on Blaine’s case for giving up _the ultimate party pad_. It started off as a joke, but after a few conversations, Sam really seemed upset by it. Puck was pissed that Blaine didn’t offer to let him live there after his mother kicked him out. Though, to be fair, Puck’s situation had gotten a bit extreme, getting a girl pregnant the way he did toward the end of the school year. But Blaine didn’t hold anything against him. Santana, in prime Santana fashion, joked unendingly about how he and Kurt should convert it into the new Liberace Museum, or a gay artists’ colony, maybe form a cult of limp-wristed car enthusiasts.

Jeff, ultimately, was the only one of Blaine’s friends who seemed to understand.

Kurt didn’t fully comprehend why the house bothered Blaine, but that wasn’t Kurt’s fault. Blaine wasn’t ready to talk about it. His boyfriend was only looking out for him. When things got rough, that’s what Blaine had to remember.

Blaine took Kurt’s hand in his, dragging it toward him to place a kiss on Kurt’s knuckles. “What I mean, darling, is there’s no going back now. But believe me, this is a good thing. I promise.”

Kurt watched his boyfriend kiss his skin, feeling as concerned as he did when Blaine first told him he was selling the house.

“So…you don’t have a connection to this place at all?” Kurt slid across the sleeping bag they were lying on to give his boyfriend an easier reach. “Nothing you might want to come back to?” Kurt knew Blaine’s history with his parents was a sour one, but this house could give him security, a place to return to if everything fell through.

A safety net.

“Kurt, your house is a home because your father lives there,” Blaine said. “The physical building doesn’t make your house a home. _He_ does.” Blaine shook his head, slower and sadder with each pass. “I don’t have that with my folks, not here. And all this stupid house does is remind me of _how much_ I don’t have that.”

Kurt still didn’t know a lot about Blaine’s family. It was information that Blaine felt unnecessary. The past was the past. It couldn’t be fixed and it couldn’t be changed. When they talked, Blaine preferred they talk about _their_ future together. Blaine had minimized his world, shortened it to contain mostly himself and Kurt, along with a few other players, and that gave him comfort. He was happy with that.

Kurt abided by Blaine’s wishes, didn’t ask too many questions, but he’d gathered bits and pieces of information in round about ways – through letters and photo albums left around the house, and from the occasional loose lips of the guys during Saturday overnighters. They’d down a few wine coolers and tell stories out of school. Blaine played along somewhat, dismissed most of it as bullshit, but Kurt could tell which stories were true by the way his boyfriend reacted – when his lips became a tight line, his jaw got tense, or when he grabbed Kurt’s hand and they left the room entirely.

Blaine would recover quickly in his bedroom and tell Kurt that they left those drunk knuckleheads because Blaine needed to have him _now_ , but Kurt knew.

Kurt knew that Blaine had an estranged older brother, Cooper, who left home at eighteen to pursue acting. He tried a stint on Broadway, but ended up living on the streets, doing things that he wasn’t proud of to make ends meet. Eventually, when his attempts to make it on stage hit a wall, and his name basically became synonymous with mud, he set his sights on Hollywood and _boom_. Success…sort of. He reached B-rate status and hovered there, making a comfortable but ambiguous living. But according to Finn, even in interviews, Cooper didn’t mention his family, dodged questions about his mother and father, where he was born, where he grew up.

And he didn’t mention that he had a little brother. In one interview that Finn remembered, Cooper made it a point to say that he had no siblings whatsoever.

The really sad part, according to Finn, was that Blaine had looked up to his older brother. He’d been so proud that Cooper struck out on his own, went for what he wanted, and let nothing hold him back. Blaine had hoped to follow in his footsteps one day. After that interview, Blaine defended him, blew it off by saying that Cooper was just trying to protect their family from nosy paparazzi, but Blaine knew. They all knew. But being his friends, they went along with it, then dropped it soon after.

Blaine’s father, of course, kicked Blaine out of his house in Chicago during Blaine’s junior year. Blaine hadn’t spoken to him since. Kurt was probably in no danger of ever meeting him.

But Blaine’s mother…

During the course of their entire relationship, Kurt didn’t realize that Blaine’s mother had left him. Blaine kept it a carefully guarded secret, didn’t bring her up, and Kurt glanced over her non-presence. Not until that day when Kurt, his father, and Carole had to take Blaine to the hospital did they find out that Blaine’s mother had gotten fed up with the drama surrounding Blaine’s homosexuality and left him.

Blaine had omitted that information for the most innocent reason imaginable. He always thought that she would return eventually.

He’d _hoped_ she would.

Apparently, big blow ups weren’t uncommon in the Anderson household. His mother had yelled and screamed about him being a huge disappointment, about how her marriage ending was all his fault, his father kicking him out for having a boy in his room the last straw, and then she left. She did come back after about a week, snuck in to the house while Blaine was at school, but that was to collect a few things. Blaine only knew because some of the stuff she took with her was obvious – China from a cabinet in the dining room, a Tiffany lamp, an antique desk clock.

The second time she left, she left for good.

Blaine never went looking for a note, so he didn’t know there was one. Not until he decided that he needed to move on and work towards preparing for the future did he stumble across it.

Blaine didn’t know how the house was being maintained financially. The electricity stayed on, the land line, his cell phone, so did the cable, and yet Blaine never saw a bill. At first, he figured it would start automatically coming out of his bank account, something his mother could have arranged with the bank through her accountant. He kept an eye, but it never did, so he didn’t know where the bills went. He figured that was proof that someday (regardless of her comments to the contrary) his mother would show back up on the doorstep and resume life as usual. They wouldn’t discuss her leaving. Important things like that rarely got discussed. She’d just re-insert herself into Blaine’s life, and they’d go on from there.

As high school started coming to an end, and Blaine got his acceptance to NYU, he decided to sell the furniture in the house as an act of revenge. He figured his mother would come home to an empty house, and wouldn’t that serve her right? It took them around two months to have it appraised and sold by the most appropriate means. Blaine’s mother and father were big collectors of mediocre art, but even that fetched a decent price with nouveau collectors. The one room of the house Blaine left untouched, however, was his mother and father’s bedroom. But as he rifled through things, getting rid of anything and everything, preparing for his move to New York with Kurt, he started to get more and more bitter, more and more angry. Eventually, he decided that the room was no longer off limits, and he went in there in search of anything that they could liquidate.

That’s when he found it - Pamela Anderson’s _Dear John_ letter to her youngest son.

The letter hit upon the classic relationship clichés – her and his father married too young, they had an accidental child, they kept him in the hopes of rebuilding their marriage, and when that didn’t work out the way they planned, they had Blaine, hoping that the second time was the charm.

It wasn’t, not for the purposes of keeping them together anyway.

She didn’t say if she’d gone to Chicago. She didn’t mention where she was headed. She simply said she couldn’t be the mother Blaine needed, that she’d tried her best, but it wasn’t good enough.

Along with her letter, she left a folder full of paperwork, which included a revised copy of her will and the deed to the house, along with the deed to a few other minor properties Blaine didn’t know his family owned, each of them transferred to his name. The minute Blaine discovered the house belonged to him, he was determined to sell it. The money he made he funneled straight into his trust fund, except for a few thou for one or two important things - namely some upgrades to his Mustang, and a gift for Kurt, one that Blaine had taken to carrying around in his pocket and which he had yet to give him.

That was part of the future, too.

Surprisingly, the only person who had a clue about that present was Burt Hummel. When he noticed the telltale outline of the box in Blaine’s pocket and mentioned it to him in private, Blaine let him in on the secret.

“So, New York’s going to be home now?” Kurt asked. “We leave Ohio behind and we never look back?”

“No.” Blaine pulled Kurt’s body to him, holding him so he could feel every inch of Kurt against every inch of him. “We’ll still come back and visit. Our friends are here. Your dad is here. But home isn’t a place for me anymore.”

“Is it your Mustang?” Kurt laughed, resting his chin on Blaine’s chest. “Because that’s going to be a tight squeeze considering your clothes and my clothes and...”

“No!” Blaine smacked Kurt on his bare ass. “It’s you.”

Kurt’s brow furrowed and he stopped laughing. “Me?”

“Yup,” Blaine said. “You’re home.”

“How am I home?” Kurt brought his fingers to Blaine’s mouth and traced over them lightly while he spoke, waiting for the moment when he’d be allowed to kiss him again, when they could make love again, violating the room as many times as they could before they had to leave it for good.

“Home is you,” Blaine explained. “Your hand to hold, your lips to kiss, your heartbeat, the sound of your voice.” Blaine grabbed Kurt’s fingers in his hand and kissed them along the tips. “Home is wherever you are, Kurt. And it will be, as long as we’re together.”


	41. Form Following Function

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt isn't all that thrilled with the Christmas decorations that Blaine has picked out for his precious Mustang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompt 'tacky'. Okay, if you guys read my stories, you may have read this one already. I wrote it for this verse, but then I kind of watered it down for the masses, so to speak. But I liked this version way better, and I felt bad about changing it, so I'm posting this version anyway. If you've already read the first one, read this one, also. They are slightly different, especially in the Kurt and Blaine dynamic.

“Alright,” Kurt says, putting his Mustang into park and killing the engine. “It’s six a.m. We have roughly four hours to get in and out of the mall before the melee begins. Now, using the list of stores that you and I brainstormed, I plotted out the most efficient route from Macy’s to Nordstrom, hitting Sephora, Brooks Brothers, Build-A-Bear, Godiva, Papyrus, Francesca’s, and Sheets and Things in between, then escaping to the safety of the food court before the Santa Court crowd arrives.”

Blaine quirks a brow, smiling in amusement at one store in particular on Kurt’s list. “Build-A-Bear, Kurt?”

“Yeah, well, I kinda … you know … I wanted to get something special for Brittany. Maybe … Hello Kitty,” Kurt mumbles.

“Oh, darlin’” - Blaine puts a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and squeezes - “you know you’re her favorite unicorn.”

“Just don’t tell Santana that. I’d like to keep my testicles, thank you very much.”

“She’d have to go through _me_ to get to your balls. Wow …” Blaine’s eyes widen when he catches a peek at the map Kurt printed off the Internet, with the route outlined in red, the stores highlighted in green, and a secondary unexplained route drawn in yellow.

“Hey” - Blaine points to the yellow line - “what route is that?”

“That’s emergency escape route B, in case we take longer than expected. It bypasses the food court and diverts to a lesser known exit.”

“Does that … go up to the roof?”

“A-ha. And down the fire escape on the outer wall over Wings ‘n Things.” Kurt catches Blaine staring at him in awe. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, mon amour.”

“I’m not hatin’. I’m just wondering why that can’t be elevated to escape route A. It sounds like way more fun.”

“Well, I _did_ want to live to see tomorrow, but I’ll consider it. Now let’s get a move on!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Blaine hops out of his seat and races around to the trunk before Kurt can lock up.

“What wait? No wait! Blaine! It’s only _three_ days till Christmas! _Three days_! Everyone and their grandmother is going to be inside that mall. If we don’t get in there _right now_ , we’re going to get caught in the middle of a blood bath, and I’m not wearing my coveralls!”

“Exactly!” Blaine says, rummaging through the trunk. “The three days … not … you know … the blood. That means I only have three days to use _this_.”

“To use wha---oh my God …” Kurt watches in horror as Blaine begins, without permission, decorating Kurt’s car.

“Blaine!” Kurt groans with what is sure to become a deep, abiding pain. “You are _not_ putting reindeer antlers and a big red nose on my baby!”

“Why not? It won’t damage it.”

“Yes. Yes, it will. It’s bruising my soul as we speak!”

“It’s festive!”

“It’s tacky! Put it on _your_ car!”

Blaine laughs. “You never want to take my car anymore! Yours has backseats. Mine doesn’t. Remember?”

“That’s no excuse for punishing me like this! No Mustang in the world deserves this kind of treatment!”

“It’s functional!”

“What?” Kurt scoffs. “How do you figure that!?”

“Come on. I’ll show you.” Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and leads him away. Kurt quickly sets the alarm as he’s dragged against his will, mourning the state of his poor, humiliated Mustang. Blaine leads Kurt to the very front of the parking lot and steps up onto a curb. “See.” He gestures to the sea of cars already filling empty spot after empty spot between them and Kurt’s Mustang. “Without my _tacky decorations_ , your vehicle would get lost in the crowd.”

“Bite your tongue, Anderson,” Kurt growls.

“You do it for me,” Blaine quips without a thought. “Anyway, we would spend needless time after shopping searching for it. This way, it’s easy to find.”

“Blaine,” Kurt begins, his sanity lodged somewhere between his throat and his watery eyes as he sees his sleek, sexy baby sticking out like a sore thumb, “you’re right. That is a ( _ahem_ ) brilliant idea.”

“Thank you, Kurt,” Blaine says, chest puffed with pride.

“Of course, we could have always done this …” Kurt takes out his iPhone from his pocket, unlocks the screen, and selects an app.

“Kurt! _Anyone_ can use _My Car Locator_. This is Christmas! How much longer can we put antlers on a vehicle and not seem insane!?”

“Blaine …” Kurt turns Blaine in the direction of a nearby Ford pickup with two sets of buck antlers mounted to the cab rack “… we live in _Ohio_. Everyone’s insane here. Antlers would just make us blend in _more_.”

“Touche,” Blaine says in a condescending tone, and with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re right. I’ll just go and take it off then, Scrooge-y McScrooge-pants.” He takes a step back towards the Mustang, ready to divest the car of its short-lived holiday trappings, but Kurt grabs the hand of his sassy boyfriend and tugs him towards the mall.

“Come on, Sexy Santa. There’s no use going back. What’s done is done. Leave it. We’re already late.”

“You’re too kind to me, darling,” Blaine says, rushing to keep up with Kurt as he picks up speed.

“Yeah, well, if it makes you happy, I’m willing to keep it … for now. Besides, that may have to be your gift this year. We’re already seven minutes behind schedule!”

“Nu-uh. You’re giving me my gift tonight, because that’s when I’ll be giving you your gift.”

“Really?” Kurt huffs, but also intrigued. “And what’s that?”

“Meet me in your backseat later, darling, and you’ll find out.”

 

 

 


	42. The Best Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home for Christmas break and helping out in his dad's shop, Kurt has to put up with his worst customer of the day ... who also ends up being his best customer of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts from audience to universe.

“Let me take a wild guess – my car’s not done.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, bracing himself for the one customer of the day that he had expected to start shit. Sometimes he hates being right. “Well, hello to you, too. Nice day we’re having, don’t you think? Fine weather for an Ohio December …”

“Cut the crap, Hummel. Where’s my new part?”

“You dropped off your car an hour ago, _before_ I even took the _closed_ sign off the front door. I _just_ got confirmation on the order fifteen minutes ago. That’s why I called you. As a _courtesy_. It’s going to take a while to get here.”

Kurt doesn’t turn around to look, but he feels the man stop behind him, at a distance that Kurt would normally consider too close for comfort. But today, it’s fine by Kurt. If Mr. Thing wants to assert his dominance by getting up in Kurt’s business, that’s all right. Kurt’s in his coveralls, covered in grease, so he’s fine to get his hands dirty with this asshole.

Besides, Kurt hasn’t had sex in three whole days. He has so much tension built up in his body, he’s fully prepared to rip this man to shreds with his teeth.

“I don’t _have_ a while. I have things to do, places I need to be.”

“Well, then, today’s going to suck for you, isn’t it?” And Kurt laughs, because he’s sick and tired of being nice, turning on the charm for douchewads that don’t deserve a minute of his time. Not when he had to come to work at six in the morning during his vacation, a whole hour earlier than normal to help his dad catch up.

Not when this guy’s determined to be a prick for no reason.

It’s not fair. Kurt is doing his dad a favor. What did he do to deserve being harassed by Captain Asshat of the Universe?

“Well how about this - since you’re holding my car hostage, I’ll take something hostage, too.” The man grabs Kurt from behind, one arm around his waist, another sneaking lower, grabbing hold of the source of most of Kurt’s stress.

Kurt’s lips quirk into a sly grin. “I’m sorry, sir, but that part’s a bit too big to fit your vehicle.”

“I don’t think you understand” - The man tightens his grip on Kurt’s cock, but, at this point, he’s doing Kurt a favor, every inch of frustration dripping from his mouth music to Kurt’s ears - “I happen to be a very busy and important person. Don’t you _know_ who my father is?”

Kurt freezes, pauses as those words make the journey from his ears to his brain, their impact on his attitude swift and effective. Kurt opens his mouth to clap back, but ends up giggling instead. He feels the man behind him sigh in exasperation, and that makes Kurt snort. “I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I’m really sorry. I just …”

“Kurt!” Blaine whines, dropping his head to his boyfriend’s shoulder. He loosens his grip on Kurt’s crotch, but doesn’t let go. They’ve been back in Ohio for three days, and this is the first opportunity he’s had to manhandle his boyfriend like this – aggressive, unrestrained. “This is the _second time_! You’re really awful at this.”

“I’m so sorry, Blaine! I can’t help it!” Kurt turns, looping his arms around Blaine’s neck and giving him an apologetic kiss on the chin. “It’s just … you sound like Sebastian!”

“Oh God!” Blaine falls forward, pressing Kurt into the Honda behind him. “Way to slay my boner, Kurt!”

“How do you think _I_ feel considering he spent the better part of last year with his hands all over me?”

“I thought we promised not to talk about that anymore,” Blaine says sadly. Of all of the things they’ve overcome, the way Dalton’s Crew treated Kurt is one thing Blaine still has a hard time getting over. He’d never felt so useless to help someone he cared for in his life.

“You’re right. We did. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Blaine smiles. “Darling, there’s nothing to forgive.” Blaine gives Kurt a squeeze, a nibble on his lower lip, and a pat on the tush. “Okay. Let’s start over. Who goes first?”

“You both do!”

“Dad!” Kurt pops up, pushing Blaine off him so quick, his chortling boyfriend nearly flips over the hood of a Toyota.

“Seriously, guys!” Burt groans, shedding his jacket and shaking off the rain. “I appreciate you helping me out over Christmas break, but can you keep the kinky roleplaying out of my shop?”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Yeah, Burt. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well, sorry’s not gonna rotate the tires on Mr. Dudley’s Ford, so can you keep your hands off each other long enough to get some work done? Kurt, this is the longest you’ve ever spent doing an oil change before. What’s going on? You lost your touch?”

“Ah! Dad! You insult me,” Kurt gasps, watching his father retreat into his office, rescuing himself from having to play audience to any more of Kurt and Blaine’s X-rated shenanigans. In the years since those two have been dating, Burt has learned more about his son’s sex life than he’d ever hoped to find out. Last vacation, it was in the car, in the shop, in the kitchen, on that tacky 1960s couch in the garage … don’t those two just screw in a bed like everybody else?

“Lost my touch. As if,” Kurt gripes when his father shuts the door. “I can do this oil change in my sleep.”

“Don’t sweat it, darling,” Blaine says with a snicker. “You know, I could save face for you, go in there and explain that you haven’t gotten the oil change finished because you were too busy blowing me in the bathroom.”

Kurt picks up a rag and flings it at Blaine’s head. “Yeah? Well, if you ever expect another bathroom blowjob, don’t you dare!”

 


	43. For Paying Customers Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently Kurt and Blaine have sex in Kurt's car ... a lot. So much so that they're beginning to attract a crowd. When Santana clues them in, their response to her is a little unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written using the Klaine Advent Drabble prompts, audience, bed, hello, and tacky. Happens sometime after "the big race" in the main story, but before high school graduation.

“Jesus H., are they _still_ going at it?” Tina asks, jumping out of the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car before it even comes to a complete stop. “It’s been about two hours!”

“They’re _always_ going at it. Where have _you_ been?” Santana steps out of her Camaro and rounds to the passenger side to open the door for her girlfriend. “I don’t think they can even breathe unless they do it mouth-to-mouth.”

“Well, if you ask me, that’s just tacky.” Tina watches the blue Mustang rock steadily beside a static black one, the fogged windows streaked with condensation so that the onlookers gathering can just barely make out the two boys inside, oblivious to their stares and snickers.

“Uh, right,” Santana says with a dramatic eye roll. “Ring, ring. Hello pot? It’s me kettle. By the way, you’re black.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It means that, from what I’ve heard, the city of Lima is still trying to shake down your boyfriend for about a thousand dollars to fix that pothole the two of you have worn into the asphalt with all of your constant bumping and grinding.”

Tina doesn’t dispute the accusation, just arcs her face away, in time to miss a hand smack the glass, accompanied by a long, drawn out moan.

Santana, walking hand in hand with Brittany, makes her way over to the car and knocks on the window.

 _Tap_ - _tap_ - _tap_. “Hey! Hey, guys!”

“What!?” the cracked voice of Kurt Hummel responds.

“Did you two even come here to race? Or just to fuck?”

“We raced,” Blaine says. “Now we’re fucking. It’s a … _oo, yeah, like that_ … logical progression if you think about it.”

“Well, you might wanna consider moving this show somewhere private. You know, with a bed? You’re kinda attracting an audience.”

The Mustang stops rocking. Blaine’s hand swipes down the glass, clearing a spot so he can see outside. Through the blurry hole, swiftly fogging back over with every breath Blaine and Kurt take, Santana can make out the sweaty heads and shoulders of both boys, but little else.

“Are we really?” Blaine asks.

“Really what?”

“Attracting an audience?”

“Or are you just being facetious?” Kurt chimes in.

“Why don’t you guys roll down the window and find out?”

The hole fogs over again, but the Mustang doesn’t move. Underneath the whistles and catcalls of peeping toms eager to get the show started again, Santana hears Kurt and Blaine deliberating. Eventually, the window _does_ open, prompting cheers from the surrounding racers, but only a sliver, and a baseball cap slips out.

“Here,” Blaine says, passing the hat out to Santana and closing the window again.

Santana flips the cap over and looks at the writing on the crown – Hummel Tires and Lube.

“Uh, what do you want me to do with this? Cuz I’m not wearing it if that’s what you’re thinking. Hummel can plug his own dammed business.”

“No,” Kurt says with an indignant tut. “Pass it around.”

Santana looks at the black cap with its gold lettering and sneers. “What for?”

“This ain’t no free show,” Blaine says. “If these people wanna see this car rock, they have to pay for the privilege.”

Santana scoffs, looking at the hat, and the Mustang, with disgust. “Are you two _serious_?”

“Yup,” Kurt concurs. “Tickets to New York don’t pay for themselves.”

 


End file.
